


A Call to Prayer

by KaelsMiscellany



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: (but in a Gerudo way), Adventure & Romance, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Genderqueer Gan, Genderqueer Link, M/M, Majora's Mask AU, Multi, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Twilight Princess AU, slow burn ot3, welcome to Cosmology 101
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28422459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: In order to make Hyrule richer and more powerful, King Nossalph agrees to a marriage between his daughter, Zelda, and the Son of the Sands, the future King of the Gerudo.What was once a circle now becomes a spiral, and the only question is: is it destruction, or salvation, at the end?
Relationships: Ganondorf/Link (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 66





	1. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome! This fic's definitely going to be more ambitious than _Sweet Dreams_ , and I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> This takes place in a sort of weird Child timeline, where Link never ended up in Termina, and the Sages managed to kill Ganondorf. Those're at least the biggest changes, you'll find out more along the way...
> 
> The story title comes from "Familiarity" by Punch Brothers, the title for this part comes from "A Kindling, Of Sorts" by The Oh Hellos.
> 
> Also, once again, I gotta give thanks to the lovely peeps in the [Triforce Trio discord](https://discord.gg/DFhvmJkMsD), for listening to me yell, and helping me figure out many things, y'all are really the best.

Zelda had never seen Gerudo before. No, that wasn’t accurate—and if she was to be worthy of the blessing of Nayru's Wisdom, as she was destined to be, then she must be as accurate to the truth as she could be—she _had_ seen Gerudo, but never so many, and never this close to her person, before.

Six of them stood before the Royal Dais, and more were scattered around. They were all dressed similarly, though save for the jewelry they look nothing like the Gerudo she’s seen in her few outings to Castle Town. Her textbooks said, however, that it was their traditional garb, which didn’t make it any less strange to Zelda.

It was clear to see the guards, for they were the ones armed, and in red outfits that appeared brighter against their dark skins. Five of the ones in front of her were wearing white, while the last wore _black_. Which clearly marked her as important, but Zelda couldn’t make out _why_. Nevertheless, Zelda found her attention returning to her, who appeared at a glance to be the tallest Gerudo there as well. Somehow Zelda _knew_ something about her, or there was something familiar about her, even if Zelda was certain she’d never seen the Gerudo before in her life.

The courtiers, ambassadors, and dignitaries whispered and stared; though they know why these women were here, same as Zelda. She was to wed their future king, though she would have thought her future husband would come with the rest of the Gerudo to meet her. Although she knew next to nothing about the Gerudo Prince, as she did all the other royal princes she could have possibly wed.

Unlike those other princes, however, the Gerudo knew the routes through the Great Desert and over the mountains to the west, and they had lightning magic; both things which made them highly attractive to her father, for reasons Zelda was apparently still too young to know. Not even Impa would tell her, and Impa told her _everything_.

Overall, Zelda didn’t feel _opposed_ to the whole thing; she was a _Princess_ after all, royalty marrying for love only happened in love plays and stories. But still, meeting him would have been nice.

“We, the Mothers, greet you King Nossalph, Princess Zelda.” The eldest of the women in white spoke, her voice deep and rich. “We thank you for agreeing to _Alunshey_ , the Son of the Sand’s, suit, though we regret that he cannot be here himself. For it is forbidden for _Alunshey_ to leave our lands until he is King.” The five women parted for the one in black. “This is Gandin, she is the Voice of the Son, and she will speak for him while we are here.”

Gandin stepped forward, her long red braid swaying, even as she gave a very Hylian bow. “King, Princess,” her voice was even deeper than the Mother’s. “I greet you as the Voice of the Son.” She turned her attention fully to Zelda, giving another little bow. “The Son wishes me to convey his deepest apologies for not meeting you himself, Princess Zelda. But know that he has made promise to do so once he has claimed his kingship.” 

“I understand,” Zelda did her best not to make a face when her voice squeaked a little. “Tell the Prince that while I wish otherwise, I will gladly wait to meet him once he is king.”

“Yes, yes,” Father’s voice broke through their conversation. “Zelda, escort this... _Voice_ to the gardens, why don’t you? While the Mothers and I convene to discuss far less interesting things.” Her marriage, he meant; Zelda didn’t roll her eyes.

Standing she descended to Gandin, doing her best not to be taken aback by the fact she only reached the woman’s waist. “Lady Gandin.” Strangely she found herself realizing if Gandin undid her hair, Zelda could wrap herself in it completely.

“Princess.” Again in a very Hylian gesture she offered her arm, her voice pulling Zelda from her musings. It perhaps did look a little ridiculous once she took it, Gandin having to take about a half step for every one of Zelda’s so they kept pace. 

Zelda hardly noticed, more concerned with the flash of insight that took her as they walked: this Voice didn’t just _speak_ for the Prince, she _was_ the Prince?

-

Link did his best not to fidget while the man on the other side of the desk read the letter he’d handed over. Mom had said it would be enough to get him into the Castle Guard, but how did mom _know_ that.

“So,” the man’s raspy voice made Link jump, a little. “You’re Romall and Sava’s son, eh?”

A nod, easier than trying to explain it—even though he knew Mom’s letter had said ‘child.’ Link felt like a boy today anyways, so he might as well just go along with it and figure it all out later.

“‘Least you still got your hearing. How old’re ya?”

“ _Fourteen_ ,” Link answered. At least moving his fingers helped ease the urge to fidget. “ _I turn fifteen in two months_.”

The man gave a nod. “I knew your folks well, kid. And once you hit sixteen, I’ll gladly take you in as an apprentice Guard.” Link could feel his face fall, that was over a year away! What was he supposed to do in the meantime? As if reading his thoughts, the man pulled out a sheet of fresh parchment, quill rasping as he wrote. “Ain’t gonna leave you high and dry, owe your ma my life, I do. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. Castle takes in pages young as you, and that’ll get you access to some early guard training too, iffen ya want it.”

Link gave another nod, the man sprinkled sand onto the letter. “Least you’re likely used to not being seen, growing up in the woods, eh?” The man continued before Link could even respond. “Noble’s’ll likely think just ‘cause you can’t speak, means you don’t got a brain. But don’t get greedy and start sellin’ off whatever gossip ya might hear, that’ll get you a ticket right to the dungeons, ya hear? You’re gonna just have to take whatever guff they give ya, cause that’s how nobles do, but don’t let any of the pages bully ya, yeah?”

He folded up the letter and sealed it with wax. “Take this right up to Kasso, the Majordomo, he’ll getcha settled up as a page. Down the hall and to the left. Do good work, train hard, and we’ll happily take ya in next year.”

Doing his best to keep his grin from getting too big, Link gave a little bow—that was what you were supposed to do, right?—before taking the letter and heading back into the hall.

 _I’ll make you proud, mom_.

-

Zelda tilted her head up to take in a bit more of the late spring sun. Gandin sat next to her, his—her? Zelda wanted to ask, but was fairly certain that was actually rude—tall frame almost casting her completely in shadow.

Nearby a few of her still rotating circle of ladies-in-waiting were sitting and gossiping amongst themselves. They were supposed to be chaperoning, but seem more interested in talking about the Gerudo standing guard. Only Impa seems to be paying any attention to Zelda, and even she was far enough away that Zelda and Gandin could have a private conversation.

Not that either of them were speaking. Zelda resisted the urge to chew her lip as she tried to figure out a way to break the ice, they were supposed to be getting to know each other after all. “What’s it like having so many mothers?” Zelda only just kept herself from slapping a hand over her mouth over the _definitely_ rude question. She could feel her cheeks turning pink however.

Gandin turned to her, copper eyes glittering. “What’s it like having a father?” His deep voice countered.

Fair enough, she rightly deserved that. She shrugged. “Um, I hope this isn’t another rude question,” she’d already asked one, so she might as well ask another potential one, for her own clarification. “Are you a…” She wracked her mind for the right terms. “ _Vai_ or _voe_?”

“Until I reach my majority, pass the King’s Trial, and reclaim my name, I’m _vai_ ,” she, then, answered. Seemingly unsurprised that Zelda had figured it out at all. “It’s safer that way.” A shrug. “And tradition, we are all _vai_ outside _Gintu_.” White teeth flashed against her brown skin. “You?”

Zelda _very_ much wanted to ask what she meant by ‘safer that way,’ but was certain that wasn’t the sort of question one asked this early in a relationship. “ _Vai,_ or at least...I think so?” Her textbooks had broken it down, seemingly clearly at the time, in Hylian terms; but Zelda was starting to get the suspicion that wasn’t the same as _Gerudo_ terms.

Gandin gave a sage nod. “It _is_ hard to know sometimes,” she agreed. “Though for outsiders we do simplify it greatly.” Which made Zelda want to ask even more questions, before she could find somewhere to start, however, Gandin was speaking again. “What is it you enjoy doing?”

“Learning things,” Zelda answered. Internally making a face, because this was a boring adult question. “Archery, horseback riding.” Despite it being a boring adult question, she found herself leaning in a little closer, as if somehow the ladies-in-waiting might overhear her. “Sometimes I dress as a boy and Impa and I sneak out into Castle Town.” Something that Impa had kind of made her swear not to tell anyone.

But Zelda reasoned that Gandin A) wasn’t just ‘anyone,’ and B) wasn’t a Hylian to get easily offended by such things.

Laughter left Gandin, and Zelda decided she liked it, even if she couldn’t quite figure out _why_. “And here my sisters thought you’d be a timid, handkerchief clutching, _lady_.” Again that flash of a smile. “You’ll fit in quite well back home when you finally arrive.”

“Thank you,” Zelda muttered as she ducked her head down, wishing she could hide behind her hair instead of having it pinned under a whimple.

Gandin’s shadow fell over her as she leaned in closer. “Since you shared such a secret with me, how about I show you something. Pick one of those timid ladies over there,” she inclined her head towards the ladies-in-waiting.

Now Zelda chewed her lip. “What’re you going to do?” She’d rather know _before_ she picked a lady, just in case.

“I won’t hurt any of them,” Gandin sounded offended by the very thought. “Just...borrow something, for a little bit. She won’t even know it’s gone.”

“Lady Heba,” Zelda finally said. “She’s the one in the purple dress.”

“Then, excuse me for a moment, Princess.” Gandin stood and went over to the ladies, who all seemed to think they were hens and Gandin a fox. Though Gandin clearly began to charm them, kissing the backs of their hands like some knight out of a love play. She stayed for another minute or two, and when she left, Zelda could hear the ladies sounds of protest.

Which clearly made Gandin more than a little smug when she returned. “Your hand please, Princess?”

Cautiously Zelda offered it. With a flourish Gandin produced a gold and emerald bracelet, which looked quite small in her fingers. “Complements of Lady Heba. It suits you far better than it did her, though I wouldn’t tell her that when you return it.” She gave a grin as she moved to put it on Zelda’s wrist.

“How?” Zelda managed to ask. She knew more than few of the nobles called the Gerudo thieves, but she thought that was just them being...impolitic.

“Easy,” Gandin answered. “You Hylians, most of you anyways, are easily flustered.” She mimed kissing the back of someone’s hand. “Pair it with a physical action and it’s easy to miss someone just...liberating something from your person. Wrists and fingers are easy. Pockets, necks, or ears take a bit more work.”

Zelda found herself filing that all away, though she had no idea when any of it might come in _use_ , as Gandin finally put the bracelet on her. Her large fingers were warm and calloused as they touched Zelda for the first time. Even after she’d closed the catch—almost as impressive considering how delicate it was—Gandin’s fingers lingered for a few seconds, and Zelda understood what she meant by ‘easily flustered.’

Their fingers brushed as Gandin pulled away, and the world flashed for Zelda. _...a dagger in a hand raised high...blood on Gandin’s face…_

“Princess?”

Zelda gasped, returning to the world. She must not have been gone for long, for she was still sitting upright. Eyes widening she turned to Gandin, grabbing her by the vest to pull her close. “Someone’s going to try and kill you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters will be posted every Wednesday, barring any unforeseen circumstances.


	2. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

Gandin _laughed_.

Zelda did her best not to fume and stomp her foot, princesses were beyond such childish things. “I’m serious,” she hissed angrily.

Untangling Zelda’s fingers, Gandin calmed herself and her expression grew grave. “I believe you. Only…” A huff left her. “Assassination attempts are nothing new to me, Princess. The only differences is you’ve given me a heads up, though I would not have thought anyone would be so bold as to do it _here_.” A sort of calm acceptance filled her voice, one that Zelda herself wouldn’t feel if she were in the Gerudo’s shoes.

“How many?” She found herself asking, hesitantly.

“With this one? Eight of my sisters have died protecting the current _Alunshey_ over three attempts, we have carved their names in the temple and shout their names into the storm.” Gandin’s face grew distant. “We are gifted _Alunshey_ every hundred years, to lead us to glory and prosperity, but it has been _six hundred years_ since the last Gerudo king. There is a conspiracy of sorts, or perhaps more than one, bent of defying the will of the Goddess. Because of them, three of the Sons have been smothered in the cradle, one was poisoned, and the previous one was thrown from a horse. Though there is some debate whether that was actually assassination, or ill luck.” Her smile was brittle.

“Oh,” Zelda murmured. “But doesn’t this...cult,”—a good enough word for it, Zelda supposed—“know you’re here?”

Gandin threw her hands wide. “But, Princess, _I_ am not _Alunshey_ , only his Voice here to meet you. For all agree _Alunshey_ is _voe_ , even outside _Gintu_.” Her brittle smile turned sharp. “Though it is clear that is enough, if your vision is to happen here.”

Zelda wanted to argue that that wasn’t true, that they both _knew_ that. Gandin was clearly the Son of the Sands, if only in hiding. But she bit her tongue, because someone might be listening. She couldn’t imagine living her whole life like that, looking over her shoulder, wondering when someone might try to kill her. Anyways Zelda only knew because of magic, which wasn’t how most people would figure such things out.

She was saved from answering by Impa’s approach. “My lady, while I’m sure you and the Voice would like to speak longer, your lessons await.”

A sigh left Zelda. “Yes, thank you, Impa.” She stood and curtsied to Gandin. “Thank you for an...enlightening conversation Lady Gandin, I hope the rest will not disappoint.”

“Of that, princess, I have no doubt,” Gandin answered.

“You’ll return the bracelet,” Impa said when they were halfway to the castle. It was not a request.

Another sigh. “Yes, yes, I will.” She’d been planning to, though part of her _did_ wish to keep it. Wrong as that was.

-

Link wished she could find whomever it was who designed the page’s uniforms and kiss them. For while they were a bit thin, they were the same for boys and girls, regardless of age.

It meant that she could wear her hair in a tail, put the gold cuff she’d been given by a Kokiri on her ear, and all the nobles called her ‘girl,’ when they spoke to her—she doubted any of them knew her _name_. And when she felt like a boy, she’d haphazardly tuck her hair under the cap she’d been given—which she always feared was going to fall off her head at any moment—and look like any other boy.

The other pages didn’t seem to know what to make of this, but while they’d learned over the past few days she understood them only two of them knew Sign, and the rest didn’t seem interested in learning. Much to Link’s relief, when she’d gone down for the first self-defense class the Guards offered, she discovered they _all_ knew Sign. Considering mother had been the one to teach it to her, maybe it shouldn’t have surprised as much as it did.

Clutching the cap to her head, Link raced towards the classroom. Another surprise, that for two hours of her day she’d be stuck in a room with twenty other pages and be taught all sorts of things. Which Link was also grateful for, because her five day journey from the forest she’d grown up in to Castle Town had quickly taught her she knew little of Hyrule and the people in it, and Link wanted to fix that.

“Not the last this time, Link,” Tifei, their teacher, said, peering at Link through her glasses. “Congratulations.” 

Link could feel her ears burning as she took a seat—she’d memorized the map of the castle she’d been given quickly, but the map didn’t fully prepare her for how _big_ the castle actually was. The last few students shuffled in and Tifei cleared her throat. “Alright, we’ll be doing algebra first today, then move on to Culture.”

Some of the students groaned. Tifei glowered at them. “I know you’re all eager to learn more about the Gerudo visiting us, but you must work for it.”

Link kept her head down, she’d endured worse than math problems.

-

Zelda awoke almost a week after the Gerudo arrived, only to peer out her window and discover it was raining. It wasn’t a downpour, not yet, but it looked like it might be one.

A few minutes later her maids burst into the room, all splitting off to do their various tasks. Zelda found herself frowning as she realized they were giggling about something. “What’s happened?” Impa usually frowned on the maids gossiping around Zelda, but this clearly was more important than that minor ban.

The maids all looked at each other, clearly having some silent fight over who would tell Zelda. So it had to be about the Gerudo in some fashion if they were hesitating so.

Finally, Civie spoke from the closet. “It’s the Gerudo, Your Highness. They’re...out dancing in the rain.”

Yes, that _would_ set everyone abuzz. Not letting herself think too much on it, she dashed into the closet as she yanked off her nightgown. Snatching the dress Civie held in her hands, Zelda tugged it on with the same impatience.

She only barely just managed to remember to grab shoes as she ran from her room, sending the maids into an uproar. “Your Highness!” “Your _hair_!” “Not at all proper!”

Dancing around servants and nobles, Zelda rushed down to the ground floor of the Castle, before finding a niche to stop in and tug her slippers on. She made her way out through a side door, surprising the Guard there. She didn’t even hear his protest as she began searching for the Gerudo.

Not here in the main square...so the gardens somewhere.

Zelda pushed back her darkening hair as it began to cling to her face. Kicked off her slippers when the mud began to soak into them, feeling a little like a child again she laughed. Racing through the rain she heard the Gerudo before she saw them. Voices raised in joy, and, Zelda realized, drumbeats imitating thunder.

She watched them for a moment, dancing and leaping, uncaring of their own soaked clothes and hair.

Zelda spotted Gandin easily, rushing to her and grabbing her too-large hand in both of Zelda’s own. Gandin whirled around, staring down at Zelda, confusion crossing her face—Zelda knew she hardly looked like a princess now, blonde hair gone bronze with rain, and her dress soaked through. It cleared after a few seconds. “Princess,” Gandin said slowly, as if uncertain of what to make of all this.

Zelda tilted her face up so she could meet Gandin’s copper eyes with her own indigo ones, she answered the unasked question. “I want to dance with you.”

Gandin’s grin flashed like the lightning the drumbeats promised. “Then dance.”

-

Later, as Zelda was soaking in a tub, Impa chided her. “That was foolish.”

Zelda ducked her head under the water for a few seconds, to gather her thoughts. “It wasn’t foolish, it was _fun_. I’m supposed to be connecting with these women, they’ll be my subjects some day, and…” She blew bubbles in the water. “If the maids were laughing at them, then the nobles were too.” Her face set. “I will not have my future king and his people be a laughing stock because they celebrate something so banal to us, yet is rare to them.”

She found herself staring down at the back of her right hand, the pale outline of the goddesses sigil shouting to anyone who knew the stories that she would be the Bearer of Wisdom one day. She hadn’t done her dancing in the hopes it might wake the Triforce, but she still felt a thread of disappointment that the left triangle remained only an outline still.

Impa filled her hands with lavender soap and began washing Zelda’s hair. “Well done, my lady.”


	3. part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

The air in the great hall was stuffy and Link surreptitiously tried to tug on the neck of her page's uniform to get some cool air against her skin. Normally pages didn’t help servants at mealtime, but this was a grand feast, and they needed all the help they could get. And being among the ranks of the newest pages, Link was forced to hold a bottle of wine and pay attention to anyone signaling for more.

Which she was only half-successful at, her gaze always managing to drift up to the royal table. The King was drinking heavily, which the Princess seemed intent on ignoring; her attention on the Gerudo in black sitting next to her, the two of them deep in some sort of conversation.

Bony fingers pinched her shoulder. “Goddess, Link, _pay attention_ ,” Amei hissed. The older page darted away before Link could even flip the other girl off, a fake smile plastered on her face as she went and poured wine for some merchants at the lowest table.

Link bit back a sigh and entered the fray herself—the voices of the guests overwhelming the sounds of the musicians above—swaying out of the way of drunken fumblings as she served empty cups, retreating to the edges only when her bottle was empty.

“So,” Zatal grinned as he handed over another bottle. “Think they’ll all get drunk enough and start an orgy or something?” Link made a face and the man laughed. “Such a strange little prude, parties aren’t fun until the nobles do something outrageous. Last party we had Gorons dancing on the tables, nearly broke the damn things.”

With a tight smile Link clutched her bottle to her chest and left him before he could go on, not seeing the point of such talk. Ducking between a Rito and Zora having an enthusiastic discussion, Link made her way higher up the tables. She was too new to even consider serving the royal table, but she could get _closer_.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Problem was, everything was so hectic she couldn’t tell _where_ the danger might be coming from.

“Hey!” A woman’s slurred voice blared in her ear. “Want some whine... _wine_.” Link felt the woman’s body press against her as she swayed. “You’re pretty.”

Link huffed, then shoved the whole bottle at the woman, who took it without thinking. Knowing she’d probably get in trouble for abandoning her task, and knowing there were plenty of Royal Guard standing watch on the edges of the room, Link still couldn’t ignore the feeling of danger now that she knew it was out there.

It was harder to blend in with people than it was with the woods, but Link felt herself managing well enough—it helped that everyone was a drunken, chaotic mass. She got as close to the royal table as she could, her neck prickling again. Swaying with the crowd she began to scan the room, remembering to look up.

It was on her second of such passes that she finally noticed something, or she had _stopped_ noticing something. Her gaze flew up to the musician’s gallery to find it _empty_.

Outraged voices followed in Link’s wake as she shoved her way to the nearest guard. Who looked down at her with trained disinterest. “Yes, sweetheart?” He asked.

Link resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _“The musicians are gone,_ ” she signed quickly.

He had to twist some to look up. “Prolly all went for drinks themselves. Music’s thirsty business. Anyways we checked ‘em all, they don’t got no weapons on them.”

Only reassuring if one didn’t consider the thought that weapons might be gotten _elsewhere_. Something moving in the corner of her eye made her whirl around, spotting a trio of pages heading towards the royal table. Except the longer Link looked at them, the more she realized they were too old.

Turning back around she yanked the spear from the guard’s hands—he still had his sword, which he’d probably be better at using than Link was—and ran towards the table, ignoring his shouts for her to stop. 

_Farore guide my hand_ , Link prayed, hoping she wouldn’t be too late.

-

Zelda absently noted the pages the same way she always absently noted pages. Beyond that she paid them no mind, more interested in her conversation with Gandin. How was she to know, after all?

She knew, only a few minutes later. One of the pages had a dagger in hand, rushing towards them. Before anyone, even Impa or Eemid, could react there was another page between the dagger-wielding one and Gandin, carrying a spear.

The would-be assassin practically impaled himself, blood spraying out at the force of it. It landed on her, Gandin as well, but then there was nothing else to notice, for the world went _golden_.

The next thing Zelda knew was she was being carried by Impa away from the Great Hall. Then the two of them were in a small side chamber. Zelda watched almost absently as Impa secured the room: cloth in the keyhole, and at the bottom of the door, marks drawn on the door for locking and silence.

“My lady?” Impa was crouched in front of her now, red eyes concerned. “My lady?” She asked again when Zelda didn’t answer. “Zelda.” Warm fingers cupped her cheeks, smearing some of the blood. “Say something, _please_.”

Oh, Zelda was _shaking_. “I,” she managed to croak out. Her mind kept replaying what happened, over and over. “Sick,” was the only other thing she got out before her stomach revolted.

Impa produced a bucket from somewhere only a second later, rubbing a hand up and down Zelda’s back as she murmured soothing nonsense.

She felt even worse when it was done, somehow, she wiped her mouth with the back of a sleeve—the dress was ruined anyways—as she sat upright. Not fighting it when Impa pulled her onto her lap; something that hadn’t happened since Zelda’s mother had died. “Drink,” Impa uncorked a small red bottle.

Zelda drank, relieved when the healing potion began to work. “Gandin, is he,”—Zelda cursed herself—“is _she_ alright?”

“The Gerudo were hauling her out of them almost as quickly as I snatched you up,” Impa answered dryly. She’d definitely noticed the slip, but was being kind enough not to mention it. “I don’t think there were many assassins, so she should be fine. Eemid got your father out as well, and I don’t envy him the task of sobering the King up.”

A nod, Zelda’s thoughts already moving on. “That page...they need to be thanked.” She’d barely noticed anything about them, however, it’d all happened so fast. “Do you think, they caused the golden light?” It’d been magic, but no magic Zelda had ever known before. “I...I don’t think it was from the assassins.” Even if Zelda had never encountered it before, she’d still gotten the impression that it was _safe_ , as much as magic _could_ be safe.

Impa held onto Zelda more tightly. “That shall have to wait, my lady. You and I will not leave this room until Eemid tells me it’s safe. After that, you can do all the investigating you’d like.”

“It would have to be before they clean up,” Zelda’s mind and stomach both gave a little protest at that. “Otherwise something might be destroyed.” She wanted to hope it was a stronger magic than that, but one never knew.

A sigh, and a few words of Sheikah that Impa hadn’t taught her yet. “I would’ve spared you from all of that, if I could. You will have nightmares, would you like me to stay with you the next few nights?”

Zelda gave a little nod. She knew bad things happened in Hyrule, but it was still considered an era of peace, and there certainly hadn’t been an assassination attempt in the Castle for _hundreds_ of years. She wondered how many nobles were going to start protesting this marriage of hers on that front alone.

They were there for another half-an-hour, by Zelda’s reckoning, before Eemid found them and gave the right counter-signs that meant ‘safe and not a trap.’ Eemid gave a more full account as he led them to Father: the four assassins were all dead, only a Gerudo had been injured and it wasn’t life threatening. All the nobles had been secured in their own rooms while the Guard began their investigation.

The three of them were not the only ones approaching the door when they got there. A girl page—or at least Zelda assumed girl from her hair, though her face was almost too sharp—was being marched along by the Captain of the Guard, Rogan, Zelda recalled. That the girl’s uniform was bloody indicated she was likely the one who’d saved Zelda and Gandin. She didn’t look happy, though she was keeping her mouth shut instead of yelling at Rogan so that was something. Her hazel eyes sparked in strange ways, and Zelda felt a frisson as she looked at them for too long.

“Princess.” Rogan gave a low bow, making the page bow with him. “Glad to see yer alright. You go in an’ see yer father first, Link and I’ll be in shortly.”

 _Link_ , Zelda hadn’t realized it’d become a girl’s name too, but it felt fitting. “Thank you, Captain Rogan,” she replied. Noting how he stood up a little straighter at being addressed by name. 

Taking a deep breath, Zelda straightened herself, then walked in, Impa and Eemid flanking her.

-

Link did her best not to fidget while she and the captain waited to be called in. She at least wished she could’ve changed her clothes, she wasn’t a fan of meeting the king in her bloodstained uniform—though she’d been good at not getting any vomit on it. She’d at least had the time to put some gloves on to cover the strange mark that’d appeared and hadn’t come off when she’d washed her hands.

“Told you yer too young to be a guard,” Rogan chastised.

 _“I was closer,”_ Link replied, gesturing emphatically. _“If I hadn’t done anything, things would’ve been worse.”_ That Gerudo dead, if not the Princess as well.

“Even so, boy, I don’t have to like it.”

Link grit her teeth, knowing she had no one to blame for that but herself. She started to correct him, but one of those Sheikah opened the door. “The King will see you now,” they said.

She followed Rogan, feeling like she might throw up again. That’d be something, she’d get to meet the royal family, only to throw up on their shoes. In an effort to keep that from happening she took careful, deep breaths through her nose.

This time Rogan didn’t need to make her bow, she followed his example. Glancing up through her eyelashes she saw not only the Princess and King, but the Gerudo woman in black whom the assassins had been after, her own guard standing stiffly at attention.

“So you’re the page who saved my daughter,” the King intoned. “We wish you many thanks, and would offer you a boon for your loyalty.”

Startled, Link rose out of her bow and shook her head. She hadn’t done it _for_ anything, she’d done it because as far as she knew, neither the Princess or the Gerudo deserved to die.

The King’s bushy eyebrows beetled. “Are you afraid to speak, page?”

“Um,” Rogan thankfully stepped in. “Link don’t talk, Your Majesty, he’s mute.”

Link did her best to keep her face neutral. She must have let something slip though—or perhaps she was reacting to Rogan—for the Princess looked surprised and exclaimed. “‘He?’ I’d thought Link was a ‘she.’” Link felt her own burst of surprise at the words.

Which didn’t stop her from nodding. _“I am,”_ she signed. _“At the moment, at least.”_ There was perhaps something a little embarrassing in having to explain this in front of all these people. She didn’t exactly _wish_ she was back in the Lost Woods, but she _did_ wish these people didn’t find her so strange.

Rogan looked confused as he translated for Link. “Yer a girl? Coulda said that, we let girls into the Guard too.”

 _Now_ Link wished she was back in the Woods.

Next to the Princess, the Gerudo raised her eyebrows. Saying something, probably in Gerudo, that...sounded a little like a sneeze, which Link was certain _was not_ at all polite to think, but she couldn’t help herself. Clearly only the guard understood her, her golden eyes giving Link a brisk once over before letting out a little snort and replying.

The Princess looked like she wanted to ask about what the Gerudo were saying, Link wouldn’t mind knowing herself, but the King cleared his throat before she could ask. “Regardless, you are still to be given a boon, within reason.”

All eyes were on Link, and she could only shrug. _“I just want to be a Guard, like my parents were, when I’m old enough."_ Rogan quickly translated.

Which seemed to confuse the King a little, but the Princess quickly spoke up. “Father, if Link here wishes nothing, perhaps, if she were amenable to such a thing, I could take her on as my own personal page. And when she is a Guard she can join Impa in protecting me.”

Link nodded.

“Then it will be so.” The King appeared relieved to have the whole thing done with.

“In the morning, Impa will come collect you from the Page’s Hall,” the Princess said, to _Link_.

Link could only nod again, fingers feeling as heavy as stone. She bowed again with Rogan before hurrying out after him, uncertain how to feel about everything that just happened.

-

Because it was the right and proper thing to do, a few days later Zelda was there, right alongside her Father, seeing the Gerudo off. Their horses were beautiful, and Zelda found herself noting in surprise that they had no bridle or reins.

She wove her way through the Gerudo to Gandin, Link trailing behind her awkwardly. He—which had been their first halting conversation, Zelda had already resolved to learn Sign—kept looking around, Zelda didn’t know if it was out of curiosity, or wariness.

“Lady Gandin.” She gave a polite curtsy. “I am sorry to see you go. I...I hope that what you have learned about me will please the Son of the Sands.” It felt weird to be talking about him as if he and Gandin weren't the same person, perhaps to a Gerudo they _were_ different.

Gandin gave her own brief bow. “I can assure you, princess, that he will like all I have to say. And I am sad to go, for this trip has been most illuminating.” She turned her attention to Link. “And I thank you again, _vuei_ , I owe you a great debt.”

Link’s ears pinkened, but he gave a slow nod.

“That word,” Zelda finally felt they were alone enough to ask. There’d been too many people around both of them since the assassination attempt, for her to feel comfortable in asking. “What _is_ it? _Vuw-ee_?” Zelda grimaced at her own pronunciation, not at all as smooth as Gandin’s. Gerudo clearly was right up there with Sign as important things she needed to learn.

Who’s eyes narrowed, more in thought, Zelda hoped, than anger. “ _Voo-ay_ ,” Gandin corrected, almost absently. “I am not sure there _is_ an equal word in Hylian, or at least I have not been taught it. To translate it literally…” She let out a slow breath. “I guess it would be, _hmmm_ , Spirit who walks between? Or that’s close enough, at least.”

Zelda glanced at Link, who was wearing his own thoughtful expression, before giving a nod.

“Then it is yours to use, Link,” Gandin said. “Though I cannot make you an honorary Gerudo here. Perhaps if you accompany the princess when she comes to us, it might be done.”

Hazel eyes widened, but before he could try to protest, a pair of Gerudo approached, carrying an odd looking box between them. Gandin said something to them in Gerudo as she took the box, they nodded and left. Gandin set the box on the ground and took off the lid. “I hope you will allow me one parting gift, princess.”

A nod. “Of course, Gandin, I don’t see why I _wouldn’t_ allow it.”

That lightning smile again. Her large hands reached into the box and scooped something up. “We found him on our travels over, a lizalfos was eating his mother…” She drifted off in contemplation as she opened her hand to show Zelda.

‘He’ was a _piglet_ , though he looked nothing like the piglets she’d seen in her excursions to the villages in Hyrule Field. This one was a dun color, with dark brown _stripes_ , he snuffled at Gandin’s fingertips, but didn’t seem too put out. Zelda clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal, she didn’t want to _frighten_ the poor thing.

“He meets your approval then? If you do not wish him we can easily dedicate him to the Temple of Din.”

Zelda shook her head. “I’ll take him, thank you.” Even though she was sure accepting a wild pig for a pet was not her smartest idea. “Ah, would you have a suggestion for a name?” It would be appropriate to give him a Gerudo name, she thought. She stepped forward and gently grabbed him. He was small enough he fit into her arms easily. His fur was far softer than she thought it would be as she pet him.

Gandin frowned a little. “I...I would not know what sort of thing would be appropriate, Zelda, I am not in the habit of naming animals.”

“Oh, not even horses?” The Gerudo certainly seemed to take good care of them, at least from what she could see of the ones surrounding her.

Gandin shook her head. “No. We only refer to our horses by their color, and Gerudo do not usually keep pets.”

Which made a sort of sense, Zelda guessed, though she didn’t quite understand it. “Then I shall not name him at all, in respect of your traditions.”

It was a little hard not to laugh at the surprise that filled Gandin’s face at her words. Only for it to vanish when, a few moments later, as a Gerudo called out something. Around Zelda and Link they all began to mount their horses. Gandin following suit. Zelda could feel Link tug on her dress lightly, she knew it was time for them to go, but first… “Tell the Son, when you return to him, that I expect him to write. And, that I would not be opposed to learning about the Gerudo, from the Gerudo.”

Looking down at her, which felt even more imposing with her being on a horse, Gandin nodded. “I shall tell him, and I hope you shall write back. It is good that you should both keep in touch.”

“I will,” Zelda promised as she finally let Link lead her away.

Neither of them attempted to converse while the Gerudo finished their preparations, and began to leave. All their voices raised in a beautiful song of some sort.

When they were gone, Link turned to her and arched an eyebrow. She had a pretty good idea of what he was asking, even if his fingers never moved. “No, I don’t know anything about raising a pig. But I’m going to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve never seen wild piglets before, do yourself a favor and look them up. They are a balm in these trying times.


	4. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for some minor body horror at the end of the chapter.

Almost a week and a half after the Gerudo had left, Zelda was tucked away in her room, reading a book before she went to bed. Through her open window she could distantly hear the sounds of revelry from the other side of the castle—she was still considered too young for such things, excepting her birthday, and Nayru’s Day in terms of staying up late—though more importantly she could smell the gardens, and the remains of this afternoon’s rain.

_...The language of the Gerudo, is a curiosity, much in the same way Goron Hylian is. In that it is a single-gender language, in fact its quirks make it the opposite of Goron Hylian, in that there are only ‘sisters’ not ‘brothers.’ As has been well established for centuries now, the Gerudo have only one male child every century, though it also seems whomever this male child might be, has not survived to adulthood in recent times. For this male child is destined to be their king, but they have had no king since the Civil War._

 _So then, the main gender of Gerudo is_ Vai _, or female/woman, and while it does have the masculine_ Voe _, this is only used for outsiders at the moment._

 _Expanding from_ Vai _, you have_ Vehvi _for daughter, which seems to be applied to all girls, regardless of who their mother might actually be. As they are used to desert life, communal raising of daughters is a better way ensuring their survival, much like the Zora. Going up a step you then have_ Vuhevi _, or sister, for those of a similar age group; thus it could also be considered to translate as ‘companion’ after a fashion. At the top then, you have_ Veunvi _, the mother. Referring to either your biological mother, or as a term of respect for any woman older than yourself. Even above that you have_ Veunvi’rin _, the chief mothers, or elders._

_The linguistic link, of course, is quite clear throughout…_

“Useless again,” Zelda muttered in annoyance. She’d hoped since this book was a more recent attempt at compiling Gerudo for Hylians, it might have the _vuei_ word Gandin mentioned, but no such luck.

As much as she wanted to toss the book away, she instead got up and only dropped it onto her desk with a satisfying thud. Turning around she bit back a shriek, at the sight of a roc preening on her windowsill.

While it was a _beautiful_ bird—even in the dim light of her candles it shone with a sort of blue-green iridescence, and the edges of it’s feathers appeared trimmed in gold—she knew they were bad luck, and pests besides. It didn’t bode well that this one decided her windowsill made a good perch.

She stepped closer to shoo it away before anyone else might see it, only to realize there was a _letter_ attached to the ankle of the bird.

“Who sends a letter by _roc_?”

The roc, thankfully, didn’t answer. Nor did it try and bite or attack her while she untied the letter from it. Stepping closer to her candle she unrolled it and began reading, eyes widening in surprise.

_Princess Zelda,_

_My own voice has told me you wish to receive letters, so that we might better know each other. A good beginning, though perhaps not as perfect as face to face. So I shall do my best to write clearly, in the hopes of preventing conflict and pain._

_I am Alunshay, the Son of the Sands. It is a title, yes, but it is also the only name I have until I am eighteen and can try to claim my true name. If my Mother is kind, I shall succeed. Until then, I can only be Alunshay. I also would like to describe myself to you, but in the off chance this letter falls into hands that wish me ill, I cannot. My people know I live among them as one of them, but they do not know my appearance to be that of their would-be King, only as another vai in a sea of them._

_So then, letters are a good beginning, but I’ve made a poor start on my end. I hope you will forgive me._

_I can share these things: I too enjoy horseback riding, and archery. I am quite adept at magic, though I am certain there is always more to be learned. I have, much to the frustrations of those who are allowed to know me, a voracious sweet tooth._

_I am again, sorry I can provide you with only crumbs when I should be giving you a feast. I can only hope that as our correspondence continues you will learn more._

_Alunshay_

_You are welcome to respond using this roc, it has been trained to return to my hand alone, though you will need to feed it before it can make the return trip. Also this letter should reach you before the tutors you have requested do, so they are coming, and perhaps, the next time I write, I shall do it in Sa’suresh, to help you improve your understanding._

Zelda chewed on her lip for a moment. “I don’t have anything for you to eat,” she found herself apologizing to the roc. “Um...but there are plenty of moles in the garden, which I’m sure the gardeners wouldn’t begrudge you.” It did feel a bit silly talking to a bird, but though they were bad luck, she also knew rocs were supposed to be quite intelligent.

It did seem to understand her, for it croaked, then hopped off the sill, gliding down. She hoped none of the guards tried to kill it.

Sitting down at her desk she chewed her lip again, wondering how she should reply to _Alunshay._

-

Link had thought being Zelda’s page would make things easier for him, and it did, in a way. He still had his two hours of lessons, but the rest of his time was spent with the princess alone. Running messages for her, fetching things, or teaching her Sign—which she was picking up with an ease that caught Link off guard.

Not that she wasn’t teaching him too: secret passages, the names of all the nobles and ambassadors, and how to address them. She also seemed intent on pulling him in every time she went to work on learning Gerudo. Though she also seemed displeased none of the books the castle librarian had dug up even mentioned the _vuei_ word Lady Gandin had given Link.

Link chewed his lip, his quill making absent scratches against the parchment as he tried to pay attention to Tifei’s lesson—history today—and failed miserably. _Vuei_...Link had never thought there was a _word_ for what he was. Granted he hadn’t exactly known other languages except Hylian, and Sign, and what little Kokiri he’d dared to learn—learn too much, mom had warned, and they might steal him away.

A knock on the classroom door distracted everyone. One of the older pages stepped in, giving a little tilt of his head to Tifei. “The princess requires Link, Miss Tifei.”

All the rest of the pages began muttering and narrowing their eyes. Many of them’d gotten friendlier now that he worked for the princess, but the rest seemed to resent his sudden rise in importance. It wasn’t as if he’d hired the assassins to get it, he’d just been in the right place at perhaps the wrong time.

“You may go Link,” Tifei said. “Though I want you to read the first five chapters of _Hylia Through the Ages_ and write a summary for me.”

Link gave a tight nod, packing away his things and hurrying out of the classroom.

He knew the way from here to the Princess’ chambers by heart now, making it there in record time. As he stepped into her receiving room, he was surprised to see some Gerudo with her. All of them dressed like Gandin and the others had been—two of them in white, one in blue, another in purple, the last in black—all of them staring at _him_.

The one in black spoke first. “You are the _vuei_ Link?” She stood and gave a bow before he could even nod. “ _Alusnhay_ wishes for me to extend his deepest gratitude for saving the life of _Rainor_ Gandin and the Princess, and wishes you to have this gift.”

One of the Gerudo in white stood, carrying over a small box. Link felt mildly uncomfortable as he took the box, opening it slowly. His discomfort was forgotten as he stared down at the pair of bracers within. Setting the box down on one of the princess’ infinite number of side tables he pulled one out. The metal looked to be gold, but it didn’t have the coolness he expected—although that was perhaps a trait of Kokiri gifts and not gold—nor was it that heavy. He turned it over in his hands, the abstract designs inlayed in green, blue, and red eye catching; making the bracer look almost decorative. Link was certain it would do its job better than it would appear to, however.

It was a bit on the loose side when he finally put it on, but it tightened down to size easily and fit over the fingerless gloves he now wore constantly. And that just meant he could grow into it—if he had any growing left. Undoing the laces he took it off and put it back in the box with its mate. Looking the woman in her eye as he shook his head. _“I can’t take these, they’re too much.”_

The Princess translated for him, though her expression was one of mild exasperation. Though why, Link hadn’t the foggiest.

The Gerudo crossed her arms and stared down her nose at him. “ _Alusnhay_ has decreed them to be given to you, they are yours whether you wish them or not. To be humble is right and proper, but too much and who will give you respect? A little pride would serve you well.” She turned her attention from him back to the Princess. “I shall see you later, Princess, I am sure.”

She left as the other four stood, each of them gave a low bow, and a murmured ‘until tomorrow,’ before leaving.

 _“Who are they?”_ Link asked once the door was closed. He closed the box that held the bracers carefully, half afraid they might leap out of the box and attach themselves to him.

“The one in black is Nabooru, she declared herself the Voice of the People, which I’m guessing is a bit like an ambassador, to Father and I. The other four are Riviko, Geitaifi, Anure, and Ikafu. Apparently they are to be my teachers, though I am certain they’ve also been tasked with guarding me.” The Princess sighed. “I hope, Link, that when they are teaching me, you might join me?”

The hopeful note in her voice made Link frown a little. “ _Why?”_

If she thought it was rude of him to ask, she didn’t say it. Instead answering: “I, I know you’re a page and I’m the Princess, but I had hoped...I _hope_ , that we might...still become friends?” A blush raced across her cheeks as she looked away, picking up a folded parchment and turning it over in her hands. “And it would be nice to learn things with a friend, instead of alone.”

Link didn’t know how to respond. An offer of friendship certainly had never been something he’d expected, least of all from the Princess. She was kind and friendly to everyone after all, no matter if they were human, rito, goron, or zora. Why should Link have been any different?

He flexed his fingers in hesitation. _“I...I’ve never had a friend before_.” Not unless you counted his horse Epona.

“I’ve never had one either,” she replied, her smile wan. “It will be something else for us to learn.”

_“Alright.”_

-

As promised, early the next morning before Zelda’s other lessons, Geitaifi and Riviko appeared at Zelda’s door. They didn’t seem surprised that Link was waiting there too. Though they were surprised that Zelda offered them tea, they covered it up by accepting, much to Zelda’s relief. She wanted to make these women feel welcome.

Of the two of them, Zelda had no idea if they were the same age, or if one was older than the other. They could have been identical twins—perhaps they _were_ —though one could tell them apart from the fact that Riviko’s hair was the shortest Zelda had ever seen on a Gerudo, only reaching her ears; and Geitaifi’s eyes were an odd sort of greenish-gold.

Geitaifi smiled broadly as she set her cup down. “So then, you have been a good host to your teachers, Princess, shall we begin our lessons of Sa’suresh? Or is there perhaps something particular you wish to know before we begin?”

“ _Veui_ ,” Zelda answered firmly—strange that the books she’d gotten on the language had only called it Gerudo, but that could be a question for another time. “I trust Gandin in it being a word you all _use_ , but I’ve scoured through old books and new written about Sa’suresh, and not one of them mention it?” Which perhaps wasn't a _true_ question, but she was curious to know how these two women would answer it.

Riviko’s snort could almost be considered answer enough. “The old ones, you Hylians barely saw us as more than backwater thieves, not even worthy of a scrap of respect, so why should we have treated them the same? As for new...even though we have been connected for nearly a hundred and fifty years again, there have been few Hylians brave enough to risk the desert to speak with us. It is likely they only copied off the old.”

“ _Veui_ is hard to explain to most, anyways,” Geitaifi continued. “The Hytopians still have trouble with it.” She rolled her eyes. “Would you Hylians understand that there are some that are neither _vai_ nor _voe_ , factoring in the misconception you believe that these words mean ‘woman’ and ‘man?’”

 _“Some of us would,”_ Link’s glower almost said more than her fingers did.

Zelda translated, and both Gerudo inclined their heads. “Apologies,” Riviko said. “It is not a word we give often to outsiders, even ones we are close with, anyways. Gandin, for all her training to inherit her mother’s position as _Enatu_ , the Great Sage, was perhaps a bit rash to give it to you without proper understanding; but she is young, and all youth are rash.” A smile crossed Riviko’s face.

“How then, can we properly understand?” Zelda asked.

“Some nuances can only be seen, and not explained in words. But the basics can be conveyed,” Riviko answered.

“ _Vai, voe, vuei_ ,” Riviko continued. “These are not words we use to describe the body, but the spirit within it, what is given to the Tribe, or people. Even _vehvi, vuhevi,_ and _vuenvi_ are like this. To be a _vai_ is to be one who stands like the sand dunes in the desert, unshakable and solid. They are not always warriors, but they are also the first among us to pick up arms and fight, they are bright and beautiful and some of our best.”

 _“Voe_ ,” Geitafi picked up. “Sit, light and airy as flowers upon the water. They watch within the walls and houses, and without as well, to make sure all is well. _Alunshay_ , our King to be, is _voe_ perfected. He watches, and will watch, over all of the _Gintu,_ to keep us safe and well. He speaks and the world listens, as it listens to all _voe_.

“Thus, _vuei_ are the ones who can be either, or neither, as the case might be. They are the wind, ever shifting and changing.”

“There are more facets than even this," Riviko said as she picked up her teacup. “But as I have said, these are the basics.”

Zelda sipped from her own cup of tea in order to give herself time to think. “So, then.” She set her cut down, twisting it until the handle was just so. “I would be _voe_?” She felt a little grateful that Gandin had humored her last month in their conversation about that.

“If you were Gerudo, and we were in _Gintu_ , yes,” Riviko answered plainly. 

Perhaps at a later date Zelda would allow herself to ask why the Gerudo let such a misconception stand, if _vai_ and _voe_ weren’t actually words for men and women. “Then...how do you tell, what someone is?” The words didn’t feel right to Zelda, but she wasn’t sure there was a better way of _asking_ what she wanted to know.

Geitaifi grineed. “A question which transitions quite well into a lesson: clothing and it’s meaning…”

-

Link ducked under Anure’s practice blade, his own darting out quickly, forcing her to dance away to avoid the blow. They circled each other, giving Link a brief glance at Zelda and Ikafu on the other side of the practice hall—Anure and Ikafu both had declared it was too cold outside now to practice there, though it was only the beginning of autumn—going at each other with quarterstaves.

The hiss of Anure’s blade drew him back to the bout at hand, he locked crossguards with her, attempting to leverage the blade out of her hands. It almost worked, but at the last second she appeared to become a swirl of hair and fabric, disconnecting from him and forcing _him_ to fall back in order to recover.

Footsteps coming down the hall distracted him, and he held a hand up as Anure charged towards him. She slowed to a stop at the agreed signal, but didn’t seem too happy about it. Zelda heard it soon after, if the break in her own spar was any indication.

A minute later, Eemid walked into the practice hall, gray eyes scanning the room before he bowed to Zelda. “Your father wishes to speak with you, Your Highness.”

Leaning against her staff, Zelda looked at him for a long moment. “Is this about the fight training?” She almost sounded cross. “I’ve been doing it for three months and _now_ he protests.”

“I do not know your father’s mind, Your Highness, I only fulfil his wishes,” Eemid replied with another bow.

“You’re right,” Zelda sighed, the fight draining away from her. “Well, as long as he doesn’t mind me reeking of sweat and not flowers.” Next to Link, Anure sniggered. “I guess I can go see him now.” She handed her quarterstaff to Ikafu, before walking towards Eemid, Impa following behind like a silent shadow.

As they left the hall, Link made to follow, but Anure stopped him with her sword. “You will stay,” it sounded almost like a command.

 _“I don’t listen to you, I follow the Princess,”_ he replied, knowing Anure probably only understood half of what he was saying.

“She is guarded well enough,” Ikafu supplied.

Link made a face, disliking that she was right, and that she was siding with Anure.

Anure stepped around him, until she had the tip of her sword pointed at his throat. “We understand you follow her and do as she bids, but we also see that you worry about her, overmuch. If you wish to be a good guard, you must focus on what is in front of you, and not dwell on the worry. It is an enemy when it overstays its welcome as it does with you. So you will remain, and continue to spar with us.” Her brown eyes narrowed, daring him to argue back.

Instead, Link rolled his shoulders and held his sword in the guard position.

Ikafu darted in, faster than he could blink, staff poised in attack.

-

Link wasn’t surprised that, about an hour later, he was summoned to Zelda’s chambers. She must have just finished bathing herself, for her maids were still fluttering about as Zelda sat in front of her vanity, and the room smelled of lavender and rosemary.

“You all can go,” Zelda announced when Link stopped by the door.

“Princess…” Civie began to protest.

“Civie, I’m certain should Link suddenly decide to try something, Impa will be more than enough to stop him,” Zelda interrupted wryly.

Impa snorted from the corner she was standing in. But Civie didn’t protest again, instead bowing alongside the other maids and filling out.

Link arched an eyebrow in silent question.

Zelda didn’t turn around, but her gaze did meet his through the mirror as she drew herself up straight and rolled her shoulders back. “Daughter,” she did a fair impression of the King. “I’ve heard some worrying things, that you’ve been behaving in a rather...unladylike fashion.” Zelda gave an equally unladylike snort. “I’m fairly certain it was a token protest at most, just to make everyone think he _did_ something. Because after I pointed out that in a few years I was going to be _nehsen_ ,” she made a face at the word. Granted Link found he didn’t quite like it either, but the Gerudo didn’t _have_ a word for a queen, they only had ‘King’s consort.’ “Of the Gerudo, and as a _vai_ , I am, of course obligated to know how to fight.”

She gave a little laugh. “A few months ago I wondered why they allowed that silly misunderstanding to continue, and here I am using it myself against my father.”

 _“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to fight,”_ Link replied. _“Think it’s silly that noblewomen and princesses are expected to sit back and do nothing.”_

“You’re right,” Zelda agreed, finally turning around. “And as a highborn lady I’m expected to use every weapon, real or metaphorical, to get what I want.” She sighed. “Though I wouldn’t mind a _little_ less complication in my life.”

Link didn’t say it, but he found himself agreeing, clenching his left fist behind his back.

-

Outside Zelda’s window the snow had stopped, thankfully. Though as the sun got lower in the sky, fog began to rise from the moat and the nearby Zora’s river.

Zelda turned her attention from the window to her mirror, wondering what she was going to do for her hair for tonight. Impa usually did it on Nayru’s Day—with all Zelda’s maids being given the day off to attend their own houses—but Zelda felt she was old enough now to do it herself. With a sigh she began parting it with a brush, today was supposed to be about simplicity, so perhaps just Hylia fashion…

She was almost done with the first ribbon when something wet and cool pressed against her ankle, drawing a little yelp from her. Looking down she glowered a little. “I already fed you, boar,” she chastised. Using the same ankle she nudged him away. “Let me finish and I’ll carry you and give you all the cuddles you want.” It’d taken a little work to convince the priestesses at Nayru’s temple that her boar wouldn’t be a distraction during Zelda’s vigil tonight, and could even be considered a sign of good luck—for boars and pigs were Din’s creatures, so what better companion to have when Zelda lit the new fire come morning?

When she finished with her hair, Zelda looked at her reflection, frowning a little at herself. Even with her body changing, she felt like a child playing dress up; she bit back a sigh as she stood, knowing there wasn’t much she could do to change that feeling. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her simple blue dress, checking that her steel and flint were where they should be, before pulling on the yellow wool shawl she was allowed.

Scooping up her boar she let him settle into her arms before finally stepping out of her room.

Link, Impa, and Ikafu were waiting for her, and without any of them speaking a word, they fell in behind her as she began making her way down to the castle entrance.

They encountered only a small handful of guards, everyone else, servant and noble alike, had gone to their own homes for the holiday. They met Father and Eemid at the doors; Father looked tired, but he’d been in Court since dawn, hearing the last of the year’s grievances and petitions, as well as issuing pardons.

He gave her a nod, then he and Eemid fell in behind everyone else as they left the castle. The walkways had been cleared of snow, but the stone was still cold under her feet as she walked to Castle Town proper. Soft voices drew her on, the townsfolk singing one of Nayru’s hymns.

Said townsfolk had gathered along the sides of the dark streets, only the barest sliver of moonlight peeking out of the clouds to provide something resembling illumination. Zelda knew the way to the temple by heart, however, and even if she hadn’t, the path she walked had been carpeted with fragrant boughs of cedar and pine.

“Din’s balls,” Ikafu muttered behind her. “I didn’t realize I’d miss the desert cold,” a perennial complaint with the Gerudo these past few months, and even still Zelda found herself smiling a little; though she too was getting cold.

Link must have replied, otherwise Ikafu’s next words made no sense. “Keep those sorts of comments up, and I’ll trounce you next session, little _vuei_.”

Zelda bit her cheek hard to keep from laughing. Only letting herself speak once she felt she had it under control. “You two keep this up and _I’ll_ start laughing, hardly appropriate behavior for Nayru’s chosen.” She shifted her hold on her boar, the weight of him starting to grow uncomfortable. They’d be at the temple soon, thankfully.

Also thankfully, Ikafu and Link fell quiet, letting Zelda project the quiet calm she was supposed to.

The doors to Nayru’s temple stood wide open, and Zelda walked in, only Link and Impa trailing behind her now. Though even they stopped when they reached the doors to the inner sanctuary, where the head priestess was waiting for them.

She bowed deeply. “Greetings Princess Zelda, Nayru’s chosen.”

Zelda bowed back, taking the opportunity to put boar down as well. “Greetings to you as well, Priestess Thari. May the coming year grant you much wisdom.”

“And may Nayru bestow upon you her blessing,” Priestess Thari replied. Turning she opened the sanctuary door.

Boar trotted in after Zelda as she entered. The inner sanctuary was chilly, and on the dark side as the door was closed behind her. She could still make up the pile of wood that would become the new year’s first flame, and the statue of Nayru herself, draped in garlands of mistletoe and winter pears; their sweet scents perfuming the air.

Kneeling in front of both, Zelda took a deep breath before bowing her head and beginning to pray.

Not that she had many to give this year, and once she finished she gave a small sigh. “This is the worst part,” even though she was alone, she found herself whispering to boar; as if someone might disapprove of her speaking normally. “Waiting until sunrise when I can do something again.” She rechecked her pocket for steel and flint, still there.

He gave a snuffling-squeal, then went to go explore. Zelda gave a little huff.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she let herself begin to ramble. “I wonder what _Alunshey_ ’s doing, do you think he got the birthday gift I sent him on time?” That the Gerudo didn’t celebrate the same New Years as everyone else had caught her off guard a little, but it made a sort of sense considering their allegiance to Din.

“I hope he likes it.” Zelda chewed on her lip. She’d spent the last month painstakingly stitching it out, and had nearly thrown it out at least once a day in dissatisfaction. Was it too presumptuous to do a Hylia flower pattern instead of something more Gerudo? Perhaps she should have gone through the effort of trying to combine the two styles, even if that would have meant... her boar gave an ‘oink’ and she had to huff at the distraction. “Easy for you to say, you’re a pig.”

Well there was likely no more use trying to worry about it _now_ , the handkerchief was likely in his hands, and Zelda would know what _Alunshey_ thought in his next letter. 

The cold and the aching of her body began to make itself known, and Zelda carefully stretched while trying to stimulate warmth. She could use magic, but even a little hummed spell would be frowned upon—even if Nayru was the Weaver of Magic herself—this was about enduring after all. The last of the years darkness and cold, before the promise of the new year’s first dawn.

Zelda bit back a yawn, pinching the skin between her fingers in an effort to keep herself awake. The Head Priestess wouldn’t _tell_ if she caught Zelda sleeping come morning, but Zelda would still know and be displeased with herself over it. 

In an effort to keep herself awake, Zelda tried to think of any still-ongoing problems she had that she should possibly let go of. None came to mind, but there _was_ her now old mystery of the golden light.

As Impa had promised, she and Zelda had returned to Great Hall as soon as they were able—even nine months later Zelda had a shiver at the memory. Much to Zelda’s displeasure there hadn’t been _anything_. Magic was like flour, when you used it, it was easy to see _where_ —unless, of course, it was hidden inside something else—but there hadn’t been any sort of sign of magic being used _at all_. If Impa hadn’t confirmed it, Zelda would have thought she imagined the golden light.

If she hadn’t figured it out yet, there was the potential that she never would. Perhaps it hadn’t been magic at all, though Zelda could have sworn it was.

“Letting it go,” she muttered to herself. “Is it really that important after all?” She shook her head in answer to her own question. “There are bigger problems and future mysteries for me to focus on.”

This time she couldn’t hold back her yawn. Not helping her feeling of tiredness was the fact that her boar came and settled against her hip, snuffling as it nestled closer and closed it’s own eyes. “Just a few minutes,” she promised herself as she closed her own eyes. “Just enough time to regain some energy…”

_...The world was a roar of magenta and black flames, screams rent the air around her, though she could see nothing but the flames around her. She began to move, but something curled around her. “Hello, little one,” the voice grated against her ears, harsh as lye, worming its way into her soul._

_Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was screaming. Yet her voice was calm when she spoke. “Who are you?”_

_“We are Destruction and Death, We are the Great Consumer, We will take you soon, Hylia’s get. If a Sister could not stop Us when We were weaker and younger, what hope do you have? What hope have you ever had? Death cannot be_ killed _.” A claw teased at the corner of an eye._

_“Who are you?” Zelda asked again, unable to hide the fear in her voice this time._

_Laughter, the sound slithering into her bones and burning them. “How quickly you blink-lives_ forget _. What are We always, wish-to-be-Goddess? What are We but that which you_ fear _, the terror that drinks you down.”_

_Cold flooded her even as her bones still felt as if they burned. “Calamity-Demise.” She struggled, but it was no use, however she was being held, it was too complete._

_“Yes! Ah, how I have missed you, little wish-to-be-Goddess, perhaps this time I shall finally consume you, young and fresh as you are.” Something warm and slick brushed the back of her neck. Her stomach revolted at the touch, and the pleasure in the creature’s voice. “Consume you, then this little world and the next, and then…”_

_“And then?” Zelda wished she hadn’t asked the moment the words left her mouth._

_“Then the other Sisters,” the voice crooned. “Then, finally, She will wa-“_

...Zelda jerked into wakefulness. Before her very eyes the bonfire roared into life in a conflagration of magenta and black, the heat filling the space. Still half-panicked, she scrambled away from the fire. Only to stop and vomit as the vision settled in her mind. She hugged herself as she shivered, already her mind was struggling to contain it, she could feel it peeling away at her, as corrosive as Calamity-Demise’s Malice was said to be.

Something warm nosed at her knee and she shrieked, her heart refusing to calm when she realized it was only boar. She pulled him into her lap, burying her face in his still soft hair. It only gave her something to focus on, other than the magenta and black tendrils creeping into her vision. _Please,_ she managed to beg as she felt her mind fracture further.

 _No_. She made herself take a few deep breaths. She wasn’t just going to stay here, losing her mind, hoping someone would come and save her. It took great effort to stand, still clutching boar to her chest.

The back of her neck _screamed_ in pain, and she could feel the skin there begin to necrotize, _feel_ the Malice begin to spread, scarring her.

A hysterical giggle escaped her as she stumbled. “Zelda the Ugly,” she croaked, naming herself. Better she did it before some stranger said it to another and made it a thing of pity, or revulsion. “Zelda the Disfigured.” She could live with that, being Wise didn’t mean you had to be beautiful. “Zelda the Scarred.”

The name rang, bell like, through her. Giving her an odd sort of strength to continue.

As she took another step, she found her frantic mind briefly settled on an old memory: her still alive mother, taking her to Lake Hylia and the ruins of the Goddess’ temple there. How _vibrant_ the art had been, despite the thousands of years, despite the Great Quake that had unearthed it centuries ago. The Goddess’ Chosen Hero standing triumphant in green, his sword held aloft in the Skyward Pose, after having defeated Demise. After surviving…

Survive, survive, _survive_. Zelda could do that too. Perhaps for now she would be mad and disfigured, but her madness, at least, could be made manageable. Could be something she could control. But first she had to _survive_.

Link and Impa were just on the other side of the door. If she got to them she’d be able to tell them what she’d learned. Calamity had _sisters_ , had a _purpose_ , wasn’t just a singular being but an _aggregate_ , perhaps...Zelda shook her head to try and focus herself. Perhaps there was a way to...

A warm hand settled on the back of her neck, stopping her and filling her with utter calm, soothing the growing pain of Calamity-Demise’s Malice. “Hush, my daughter,” a woman’s voice rushed over her like summer rain. “Fear not, Calamity cannot touch you, not anymore.” Zelda couldn’t turn around, but she knew who this was behind her, who had stepped into save her.

Zelda could feel her mind settling back into it’s old shape, the vision fading until it vanished completely. Her body healing alongside it, until she was as she’d been before. “I needed that,” she found herself arguing. It had been breaking her, but something in there had been _important_ , important enough to endure such a breaking. Especially when she had the willpower to survive it.

“Such a stubborn daughter my line has made,” amusement filled Hylia’s voice. “You are too young, still, my daughter. Calamity knew this and sought to break you before the Cycle truly began. It was not as important as you think,” she soothed. “You can learn it again, when you are ready, if you so wish to.” Her hand ran through Zelda’s hair. “Sleep again, my daughter. Recall not our meeting, remember only what is needed.”

Zelda’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth too heavy to protest again, she fell back, but the Goddess caught her…

...Zelda awoke, making a face as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up from the cold stone floor. Hopefully she hadn’t overslept and missed dawn, or that the Goddess would be mad that she _slept_ instead of keeping vigil.

A glance out the window told her dawn was nearly upon her, so the Priestess wouldn’t catch her at least. Pulling the flint and steel from her pocket she moved to ignite the tinder of the bonfire, blowing carefully until the twigs began to burn. She settled a safe distance away as the fire moved to consume the logs.

Clutching her shawl tighter, she was grateful for the warmth, even as what she’d learned chilled her to the bone.

Something was coming. And it would be up to her and Link to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUHAHAHHA


	5. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for some blood at the end of the chapter...oop

While Link didn’t bother to _actually_ protest again as he followed Zelda, they still couldn’t quite believe she’d talked them into sneaking out of the castle. Just the two of them.

Even with some sort of magic changing her face, she had to be the most delicate looking boy Link had ever seen—but at least, still a boy. Though... It’d been something of a shock to see her like that. When she’d first told him what she wanted to do, she confessed she’d done it before, if not for quite some time.

So far no one had stopped to wonder why Link, and another page, were going somewhere together this late in the evening. It wasn’t as if it were suspicious—well, Zelda was, a little. 

Link shouldn’t have thought of their luck because the moment they did, they lost it.

“Good evening, Link,” Nabooru’s voice called from the library door. “Who is your friend?”

They turned to find Nabooru inspecting Zelda critically. Link bit back a sigh, clearly tonight would be a bust, and they’d have to go through with Zelda’s wild scheme some other time.

“My name is… Sheik,” Zelda answered. Her voice was not exactly convincing as a young man’s, even pitched low as it was.

Nabooru’s raised eyebrows suggested she wasn’t buying it. “And where are you two going at this late an hour?” She crossed her arms and leaned casually against the doorway, seemingly unconcerned with anyone who might be behind her and wanting out—Link almost hoped someone _would_ come up behind her and want out, because then it might give them and Zelda a chance to dart away.

 _“Into town_.” Using Sign to spell out Sa’suresh wasn’t the _most_ efficient way of going about it. But while the Gerudo _did_ apparently have a Sign of their own, neither Riviko or Geitaifi knew much of it—which seemed an oversight in Link’s mind—so Link had to improvise. 

“What a coincidence. I too have business in town.” She pushed herself off the wall and stepped towards them. “Let me accompany you. I wish to get to know you better, Link, anyways. Gandin spoke quite highly of you.”

Link managed to share a brief look with Zelda, neither of them happy, but having no way of saying ‘no.’ They both nodded.

When they had originally planned this, Zelda said they could go out through the secret passage in the gardens. Link managed to catch Zelda’s eye, tilting his head towards the gardens as they headed to the castle entrance. Only for her to shake her head.

Nabooru seemed intent on following, at least until they got through the gates; the guards gave them odd looks but made no attempt to stop them. “Where is it then, that you two are going?”

“Where are _you_ going?” Zelda returned waspishly.

“A bar,” she replied easily. “Somewhere you are both too young for.” She arched a challenging eyebrow.

“The Great Library,” Zelda sighed. “We both have some free time, and Link agreed to help me look something up.”

Despite Nabooru’s claims of a bar, she continued to follow them. “Truly, the height of youthful entertainment. Though one would think, with it being so close to sunset, this library would be closing soon, Sheik. Nevermind that I have been repeatedly told that the castle’s library is the best in the Realm.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “The Great Library is open for three hours after sunset in the winter. And while the Castle Library _is_ the more varied of the two collections,” the longer she spoke, the less like ‘Sheik’ she sounded, “for the past few hundred years the Great Library is where the historical records have been kept. It’s the only building in town that remained completely unscathed during the Great Hyrulean Earthquake five hundred years ago.” They reached the library grounds and Link found themselves growing calm as they walked through the gardens.

“Supposedly the library was once a temple, one that housed the Master Sword _and_ a gate to the Sacred Realm, though no one’s found any swords. Or anything resembling gates, for that matter. There are still people that will happily tell you all about it, especially the librarians.” She gave a nod to one of them, a Rito sitting behind a circular desk, as they entered. “Granted I also grew up on tales of the Picori who came around once a year to grant the wishes of good boys and girls.” She rolled her eyes, as if to show what she thought of that. “After a few hundred years it’s hard to tell what’s the truth and what’s mythologizing.”

“It certainly has the look of one of your temples,” Nabooru said as Zelda led them deeper.

Link had to agree, the same sort of serenity that had filled them in the gardens seemed to grow; ruined only by a faint itching on the back of their left hand. They grimaced. The mark hadn’t done anything since it first appeared but they wished it would just vanish anyway. Link knew it would be more trouble than it was worth.

They reached the far wall of the Library, but Zelda didn’t seem put off. Instead just turned and began following it, clearly looking for something. She stopped in a place seemingly no different from the rest of the wall and, setting her hand on something, rested her forehead against the stone. Link’s ears twitched as he caught a soft humming noise, not unlike a song. When her humming tapered off, a piece of the stone wall next to her swung inwards, revealing a well-lit staircase leading down.

“Fascinating,” Nabooru’s voice held dry amusement. “And if _I_ tried humming that tune?” Her tone had a note of challenge.

Zelda sighed as she headed down the stairs. “It wouldn’t work—not unless you have one of the sacred instruments. I...I can get away with it because I have royal blood,” she muttered the last part, as if that might stop Nabooru from hearing it.

“Your disguise needs better work, Princess.” Not exactly the reaction Zelda was expecting, from the surprise on her face. “I see I shall have to instruct Anure and Ikafu to up their training. It would not do for _Alunshay’s nehsen_ to be lacking in any aspect, not when there is aptitude for it.”

A groan left Zelda’s mouth. “Father won’t like it.” They reached the bottom of the stairs to find a much smaller chamber, brightly lit but packed tight with shelves. “The royal records.” She chewed her lip. “I think... I think what we’re looking for will be from six hundred years ago. Though we’ll have to search the whole room, I don’t think any of this has _ever_ been organized.”

Her uncertainty didn’t surprise Link, after all she’d already told _them_.

“You think?” Nabooru at least didn’t sound incredulous. “Even our own teenagers will do outrageous things with little thought, but all of the castle seem to think more highly of you, _Sheik_.”

Zelda bared her teeth at the older woman. “I _think_ I had a vision last month at Nayru’s Temple, but I have no memory of it, Only that _something_ was coming. Something dangerous.” She marched up to a shelf, eyes narrowing at the titles. “The last time something truly dangerous happened was six hundred years ago, during the Hyrulean Civil War.” She yanked a book off the shelf. “And I _am_ a teenager, not a perfect doll, _Raimedo_ Nabooru. To attempt to be perfection would drive one to madness.”

Link drifted away from them, their own eyes scanning the shelves. Not that they knew what a book pertaining to six hundred years ago might _look_ like, but it was better than hanging around feeling awkward. The back of their hand itched again, surreptitiously Link scratched it against a shelf, but the itch didn’t go away.

In fact, the further along the shelf he walked, the worse it got. Near the end of this set their hand twitched, seeming to grasp for a shelf a little lower. In the hopes that playing along might get the feeling to _stop_ , Link crouched, then reached their hand out and let it grab whatever it wanted.

The book certainly had an old look about it, the edges of the pages ragged and yellowed. A few pieces even floated away when Link opened the book a third of the way through.

 _….I cannot shake this vision, no matter how I try. I close my eyes and see only his cold golden eyes and hair like blood. I do not know his name but I know he will be the doom of Hyrule if he is not stopped_ …

Letting out a huff, Link did feel something approaching gratitude towards the strange mark on their hand as they stood. Returning to Zelda, he found her seated at a small table, flipping through another book while Nabooru was scanning the higher shelves. 

Zelda looked up as they cleared their throat and took the book when they offered it. “Link...did you find something?”

 _“Think it’s a journal. There’s an entry mentioning a vision, and doom.”_

Her eyebrows shot up. She opened the cover and flipped through the first few pages, her hands coming to a trembling halt. “ _Goddesses_ , Link, how did you find this?”

A shrug. They weren’t exactly interested in explaining that they’d been led to it by an itchy symbol on their hand.

“What is _this_?” Nabooru asked, leaning against the table, and peering at the book upside down.

Zelda closed it and clutched it to her chest tightly, as if wanting to keep it safe. “It’s the diary of Zelda Nohansen, the _Great Seer,_ Zelda the Wise herself. And you just found this on a _shelf_?” She made it sound as if that were a crime of the highest order.

Link could only nod.

Nabooru grunted. “And for those of us not raised on the history of Hyrule?”

“She bore the blessing of Nayru at the age of _ten_ , she helped end the civil war for good. Her rise to the throne marked a golden era for Hyrule, one that lasted until the Great Earthquake.” Zelda stroked the spine of the diary. “We might have to come back later and hunt for more volumes, but I think this might be where we need to start.”

Another grunt from Nabooru. “She sounds a little boring, and far too perfect. But if you children are done, then I really _do_ need a drink. Saving Hyrule is _not_ part of my job description. You both _will_ be heading back to the castle, yes?”

Zelda gave an absent nod, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

 _“I’ll make sure she stays safe,”_ Link told Nabooru.

“Good.”

-

Zelda stared at what Ikafu held out in her hands. “What is that?” Disliking how uncertain she sounded. She hadn’t exactly thought Nabooru would follow _through_ with her threat of talking to Anure and Ikafu, but she clearly had.

 _That_ appeared to be a heavy jerkin, though one that had been altered to be covered in what had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of little silver disks. Which chimed when Ikafu moved it.

“A training jacket,” Ikafu offered. As if that would be explanation enough.

Narrowing her eyes, Zelda marched up to it and grabbed it, filling the air with chiming as she shrugged it on. Better to get it over with, she supposed. Knowing neither Gerudo would let her slack off because she was a Princess. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Move,” Ikafu answered.

Again, hardly an answer. Yet Zelda did so, filling the air with a racket.

“...Without making a sound,” Ikafu continued, smiling.

Zelda glared, first at Ikafu, then at Link, who was sniggering at her.

“Don’t go laughing yet, Hylian,” Anure said, suddenly next to Link. Zelda bit back her own laughter as Link let out a ragged yelp and jumped away from the Gerudo. “We’ve got one for you too.” She held hers out silently.

Well, at least Zelda wouldn’t be suffering through this on her own.

-

Link didn’t think there could be something in the world more uncomfortable than his page’s uniform, but it turned out whomever’d dug out this costume for Hylia’s Hero was proving him wrong.

The wool _itched_ , like it hadn’t been properly treated before being woven and dyed an unfortunate shade of green. Link shifted trying to ease the itching without scratching. If this kept up he was going to throw himself off Epona and roll in the grass like a dog—at least no one would be able to _tell_ he’d done it. Well, there’d be stains on the leather of his sheath, so no rolling in the grass for him then, unfortunately.

Zelda, meanwhile, in her own heavily embroidered Hylia yellow dress, looked like she didn’t even know what the word ‘itchy’ meant. Link was, perhaps, a little jealous; it was certainly making him regret agreeing to do this for her, even if it meant she’d left the journal of Zelda Nohansen back at the castle—he didn’t know why she kept rereading it after what had to be a dozen times already. He was sure if he suddenly changed his mind, whichever village boy was _supposed_ to play Hylia’s Hero would appreciate it.

He really would rather be wearing anything else, even a choli like their Gerudo guards would be more comfortable than this. At least he had his own boots, and had begrudgingly put on the bracers he’d gotten from _Alunshay_. 

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Zelda’s voice right next to his ear made him jump. Epona was too well trained to react to the start, though she did turn her head and nip at Zelda’s new mare—a stunningly beautiful grey that’d been a birthday gift from her betrothed—when she got overly friendly.

Link shrugged. _“Itchy.”_

She frowned. “You should have mentioned it back at the Castle, we could’ve found you something more comfortable. It’ll only be for a few hours, we’ll have to be back at the Castle by afternoon to prepare for my birthday party,” she made a little face. “I’d much prefer to stay at Lon Lon village for the whole Hylia Day, than deal with insincere well-wishes.”

On their left Anure snorted, clearly uninterested in giving them the illusion of a private conversation. “Scorpions are everywhere, princess, it is good to know how to spot them.” She flicked her high tail over her shoulder. “There will be quite a few who think they have the right to be _Alunshay’s nehsen_ as well, moreso than a Hylian stranger.”

Ahead of them, Riviko turned in her saddle and clicked her tongue. “This is a holiday, if not our own, let us celebrate the good, and not focus on the ill. It will still be there tomorrow.”

Anure inclined her head as Geitaifi rode up between them and her. “A song perhaps, Princess? Hylia must have many, if you people honor her so faithfully.”

“There are,” Zelda answered, chewing her lip for a moment. “There is one that I enjoy, though it’s not wholly appropriate…”

The four Gerudo practically cheered. “You’ve been holding out on us, Princess.” Ikafu teased.

Zelda blushed. “Not in _that_ way,” she protested. “It’s just...not about Hylia, is all.” She straightened, her eyes closing as she began to sing. 

_“_ _I danced in the Void_

_‘Fore the world was begun,_

_My dance made the moon_

_And the stars and the sun._

_My sisters made the earth,_

_And I danced on the land._

_Let me lead you all, hand in hand.”_

Her voice was sweet as she sang, though she quickly drifted off, blushing again. “Sorry, I can’t remember more than that.”

 _“I’ve never heard that song before_.” Link was pretty sure he’d remember a tune like that.

“It’s a Sheikah song,” Zelda answered. “Impa taught it to me, she’d be able to sing the whole thing if she were here. There’s apparently _much_ debate over which Goddess the song is about, though the mention of dancing in the void clearly excludes Hylia from that list.”

“It is clearly Din,” Geitaifi declared. “Why there is any wondering if it could be the other two is beyond me.”

Zelda snorted. “But the oldest stories we have say _Din_ made the earth, and the song clearly mentions that it’s not the subject that does that.”

On Geitaifi’s other side, Anure snorted even louder. “Are you decreeing what a Goddess can and cannot do, princess?”

Finding a smile tugging on his lip, Link nudged Epona forward with his knees, not interested in joining their theological debate.

Ikafu grinned at him as he came alongside her and Riviko. “Smart choice, _vuei_. Should lightning strike them all, we’ll be well out of the way.”

Link rolled his eyes, fairly certain the Goddesses didn’t actually _care_. He pointed at Riviko’s bow with an eyebrow raised in question. He had a bow of his own, but as it was part of the Hero’s costume it was a straight curve which was harder to use while riding—it was also perhaps a little more decorative than _useful_. Gerudo horn bows by comparison were a _dream_ and Link did sort of wish he had one of his own.

Riviko laughed, but handed it and her thumb ring over. “Be nice to it, though not too nice, don’t want it thinking it’s yours instead of mine,” she teased.

He wiggled his pinky at her in good-natured rudeness. Ikafu sniggered as she strung up her own bow. He let out a questioning hum, to which she answered. “More fun to make it a competition, yes? Riviko can pick the targets.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ikafu was winning—Link was close behind however—and the sounds of singing floated towards them from the village. With a reluctant sigh Link handed Riviko her bow back, then prepared himself for what was to come. 

-

Zelda sat primly on the makeshift throne that had been provided for her, watching the dancers in the square as they moved. Their breathless voices joining in with the musicians nearby.

“ _Bless the babies in this bed,_

_Or it shall be for naught._

_The regiment, the new firmament,_

_Hylia bless the whole damn lot.”_

“Lady?” Looking down from the dais, Zelda saw yet another newly married couple, red cheeked and beaming. “Bless us, the both of you?” The woman asked, shyly.

Casting a sidelong look at Link, Zelda bit her cheek to keep from smiling at the look of resigned acceptance on his face. “Of course.” 

The two of them held up their joined hands, and Zelda and Link placed their own atop them, Zelda saying a few quick blessings for happiness, good fortune, and love. The couple gave a breathless thanks, before rushing to join the end of the dance. Zelda sang along softly with the musicians as she sat.

“ _...The lot of the Queen of dance._

_For a soul, a soul, a soul cake,_

_Dance with death for a soul cake._

_An apple, a pear, a plum or a cherry,_

_All the fruits of this luminary._

_One for the seed, two for the soil,_

_Three for a spin on this mortal coil._

_Four shall shine so brightly in the sky_

_And five will make the whole thing right!”_

Ikafu was even humming by the end of it, and Link was tapping his foot. Zelda almost found herself wishing she could grab him and pull him into the dancing, instead of the two of them sitting here presiding over it all. At least the field blessings earlier had gone well, even if Link had perhaps looked a little silly holding the Skyward Pose while she’d sung prayers and sprinkled blessed water. But that was Hylia Day, a little bit of ritual silliness and a _lot_ of drinking, eating, and fun.

Her stomach rumbled at the thought of eating. “Ikafu...could you, get some food for me?” Zelda wished she could get it for herself, but as Hylia’s Maiden she wasn’t supposed to do anything for herself, neither was Link, which she was sure was mildly frustrating for him.

Link gave his own enthusiastic nod, and Ikafu let out a huff. “Such a taskmistress you are, Princess. I tremble at the though of you gaining true power. But I must serve, and so I’ll get you _both_ food,” her sigh was exaggerated.

Zelda stuck her tongue out at Ikafu’s back, not caring it was childish.

Birds flew up from the woods nearby, their cries still drowned out by the musicians as they started up another song. A man’s voice rising up in the old counting rhyme. “ _I’ll sing you one, oh…_ ”

The ground shook slightly, making Zelda frown. Moreso when it happened again, and this time didn’t stop. If this was an earthquake, it was a gentle one. Not that Hyrule _had_ earthquakes, excepting the Great Quake. Next to her Link tensed, she followed his gaze and froze herself.

A small group of blins, riding their pig steeds, were racing towards them, weapons brandished.

Before she could unfreeze herself, Link was standing in front of her, drawing his bow and aiming at the blins. Utterly calm while around them the townsfolk began to panic.

To Zelda’s surprise, Link got in more than a few shots, even taking down a few blins.

A hand grabbed Zelda and she let out a scream, cutting herself off when she realized it was Geitaifi. She shook her head when the Gerudo woman tried to tug her away. “I can fight,” she protested.

Geitaifi showed her strength by easily scooping Zelda up, carrying her off. “It’s the work of _vai_ to fight, princess. We _voe_ will have our own work to do, once the battle is over.” Zelda struggled, but it was no use, Geitaifi’s hold too firm.

Zelda’s last sight before Geitaifi pulled her into a house, was of Link, drawing his sword and seeming to glow gold as he met a blin head on.

To Zelda’s relief, Geitaifi did at least hand her a dagger, clearly for the off chance the house was invaded. “ _Voe_?” Zelda hated how strange she sounded in asking that. Now hardly seemed the time to ask, but it was better than worrying about what was going on outside. “I thought all Gerudo were _vai_ , outside the homeland?”

“Yes,” Geitaifi agreed dryly. “But I am far too _voe_ to even think of throwing myself headfirst into a fight, princess. And _you_ are too important to go playing _vai_ , even with the training you’ve received. So we shall be good _voe_ and wait for the end, then go and soothe the injured and give prayers for the dead.”

Biting her lip, Zelda nodded. Sending up her own prayer now to Hylia that there would be no dead to pray _for_.

The wait now was just as agonizing as the wait had been during the assassination attempt. Except this time there was no Impa to hold her; and she doubted Geitaifi would, even if Zelda asked.

Eventually the sounds of fighting began to die down. Geitaifi stood, practically floating to a nearby window to peer out. Even before she turned around there was a knock on the door, making Zelda yelp and nearly drop her dagger.

It was unlikely to be a blin though, they would’ve just knocked the door in. Geitaifi let the curtain drop, then opened the door. Anure stood on the other side, and Zelda blushed furiously when she scooped Geitaifi up and kissed her soundly.

When the two of them broke apart, they touched foreheads briefly, clearly both relieved they were still alive, before pulling away. Anure gestured for Zelda to join them. “No deaths,” She said, much to Zelda’s own relief. “But many injured. Come.”

The town square was a mess of torn decorations and blood. A few of the burly farmers had clearly set themselves the task of clearing out the blins and their mounts, each hauling one away without complaint. Geitaifi pulled away from Anure and went to where the wounded were being laid out, making herself useful immediately.

Zelda found herself scanning the area, looking for Link’s blond hair and green tunic. She let out a small cry of relief to see him, sitting upright, and rushed to him. “You’re hurt!” There were great rents in the tunic, and blood was oozing from at least one cut, if not many more.

His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to protest, but Zelda was cutting away the rest of the tunic before he could start to form the words. “This might tingle a bit,” she warned. Closing her eyes she focused on the magic inside her, humming the song she’d been taught ages ago. Hoping it would work, even though she didn’t have any of the sacred instruments—not that there were any _to_ have, the Ocarina having left with Zelda the Wise’s Hero and never returning, and Nayru’s Lyre having vanished from the royal vaults a few hundred years ago. Zelda the Wise’s granddaughter, Zelda the Enduring, had had a forgery made, for moral, but barely anyone knew that bit of royal embarrassment.

Thankfully it seemed humming was enough; though likely helped by the fact the cuts had been shallow at worst, if numerous. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled. “Thank you, for protecting me, and the town. You certainly earned the title ‘hero’ today.”

Link’s cheeks turned pink and he glanced away. “ _Wouldn’t be a good guard, if I ran away from protecting people_.” 

Zelda was almost relieved to let out a huff of amusement at his words. Without really thinking about it she cut away the rest of his tattered tunic—thankfully he didn’t protest—and stripped his bloody gloves off as well. Stilling when she saw the back of his left hand. “Link...where did you get this?” She ran her thumb over the Triforce mark, over the golden triangle it contained.

He jerked his hand away. “ _Few months ago,_ ” he admitted. _“After the assassination attempt. Seems kind of pointless.”_

She resisted the urge to gape at him. “Link, this is the _Triforce of Courage_ , you hold a third of the most sacred object the Goddesses gave us. That’s not _pointless_.” She let out a halfhearted laugh. “ _That’s_ what the golden light was, Farore blessing you for your courage.”

Link looked like he might protest, but she continued before he could start to Sign, thrusting out her own right hand. “See, I’ll hopefully bear one piece of it too, if I’m worthy. Likely Nayru’s.” She tapped the other triangle on the bottom. “ _That’s_ why I felt like you and I would be able to stop whatever’s coming, the bearers of Wisdom and Courage have done it before.”

Reaching out Link tapped the top triangle on her hand. _“What about this one? Who carries that?”_

“Power,” she sighed. “And...the last person to hold it...was the Demon King, Ganondorf Dragmire, in Zelda Nohansen’s time. Who knows who might hold it this time?”

_“Don’t tell anyone I have this, please?”_

Zelda frowned. “Alright,” she agreed reluctantly.

-

_...his last words to me as they dragged him away to the Temple for his execution still ring in my ear. “I will return.”_

_Impa told me to stay away before she went to go with the other Sages, but I didn’t listen._ _I_ _was the reason this was happening, I owed my people to see it through, as awful as it might be. I couldn’t get into the Temple of Time itself for there were guards at the door, but I hid nearby. Strangely I heard no sounds, not until the doors opened with a tooth-aching slowness some time later. My eyes widened and my stomach turned to see Sage Nabooru step out of the Temple, her feet trailing blood, and the head of the Demon King cradled in her arms._

_“My King is dead,” she told the guards, voice hoarse. “As are the others. Now let us all tend to our dead and mourn.” She walked past them, and I have to wonder if she walked all the way back to the Gerudo Fortress._

_I...do not know how to feel about her words, that she agreed with everyone else that he had to die, yet still called him her King, and held his head as if it were as precious as a child. Hopefully understanding will come with time._

_Already, they are calling me Zelda the Wise, though I do not feel as if I’ve truly earned the moniker. If I were truly wise, after all, would I have not found a way to end this war without more death? Could there have been a path that resulted in reconciliation between we Hylians and the Gerudo? I fear the answer is yes..._

“Oh Hylia, you’re alright, Princess.”

Zelda yelped, the diary falling from limp hands as she whirled around, heart racing. Impa, it was only Impa, who scooped her into a tight hug.

“You’re back?” Impa usually left early in the morning on Hylia’s day, only to return early the next morning. “I’m fine, yes,” even to Zelda her voice sounded awkward and stilted. Untangling herself from Impa’s grasp she gathered up her ancesstress’ diary, grateful it hadn’t been damaged, setting it gently on her desk.

“Yes.” Impa’s smile was wan. “Your father called us back after what happened at Lon Lon village. I am sorry I failed you.”

Zelda bit back a frown. “You didn’t fail me, Impa, it was bad luck, is all.” If perhaps a sign that things were slowly growing worse. She found herself sending up a brief prayer that there was still more time. “Link and the others kept me safe.” Her next words were almost about Link, and who he was, but she bit her tongue before she could say anything. She’d promised, and she would keep it, even from Impa.

Impa, of course, noticed. “There’s nothing else you want to tell me?” The woman probed.

“No,” Zelda answered. “It’s...not important to what happened. Just, something I found out about Link.” Her best friend, the Goddesses’ Chosen Hero, it almost made her want to laugh.

Thankfully Impa didn’t press, even as she frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics (although greatly changed) in this chapter come from "Lord of the Dance", and ["Soul Cake" by Sam Lee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRjxkNIP8Ek).


	6. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

Sixteen, Link surmised, _did_ feel somewhat different from fifteen. If only because sixteen had them standing in a small chapel in the castle, with Zelda, Impa, the King, Eemid, and Captain Rogan.

“Link,” Rogan’s voice filled the small space. “Child,” Link felt infinitely grateful for that. “Of Romall and Sava. You wish to become one of the Royal Guard? To serve Hyrule and its royal family?”

“ _I do,”_ Link answered. This was all just a formality, but that didn’t stop Link from feeling knots in their stomach.

Nodding back, Rogan offered up a shield. Zelda had hurriedly told him it was from some great hero in the past, but Link didn’t believe it. The shield was too shiny and _clean_ to be anything but decoration. Though it was striking in a way, the blue enamel making the red loftwing and the golden triforce stand out all the more.

“Put yer hands on the shield and...oh.” The tips of Rogan’s eyes darkened a little. “Supposed to repeat after me, but can’t sign and keep yer hands on the shield…”

“I think one hand will be enough,” Impa pointed out dryly. Glancing at them, Link could see Zelda was wearing her pest prim face, though her indigo eyes were sparkling with laughter. They did their best to make a subtle face at her.

The King gave an absent nod when Rogan looked to him for agreement.

“Right then, hand on the shield, and repeat after me: I, Link, do hereby swear to serve the royal family.”

It was awkward to Sign one handed, but Link managed. Though no one seemed to notice they changed ‘royal family’ to ‘Princess Zelda.’

“To the best of my abilities, until I am released from service, or until my death. May the Goddesses be my witnesses as I make this solemn oath, and grant me the strength, wisdom, and courage to fulfill the oaths of my office.”

The spaces between Links fingers began to ache as they finished the oath.

Rogan grinned at him. “Then I, Rogan, Captain of the Royal Guard, hereby welcome you into our company, Link!”

With the swearing in done, the King and Eemid appeared to vanish, not that Link minded. Zelda linked her arm in theirs, in a very un-Princess-like gesture and beamed at them. “Come on, I already had all of your things moved to your new room, I hope you like it.”

She nearly dragged them along with more strength than most would think she had, and with a fond smile of their own, Link let themselves be dragged.

The room, when they reached it, was only a few doors down from Zelda’s own. It was small, but Link didn’t mind that. That it had a window of its own was surprising, but they guessed they were high enough up that it was safe. Overall it wasn’t much, a wardrobe, a bed, and a washstand; but it was theirs.

Behind them, Zelda cleared her throat. They turned to find her standing by the door, a faint blush on her cheeks and a small box in her hands. “I...got you a gift. For your birthday, and for becoming a guard.” Indigo eyes hardened a little. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the change either, Link. So you _can’t_ refuse this.”

Link’s smile turned rueful as they walked over to her, they were the same height now, which was strange to realize; though Zelda apparently still had some growing left, and Link didn’t know how to feel about being shorter than her. “ _It was the right thing to do,”_ Link answered easily before taking the box.

It was a pair of earrings, gold with emeralds for Farore, Link was sure. Part of them did want to refuse, but they shut it away before it could even try to speak. Closing the box, they smiled at Zelda. “ _Thank you_ ,” could at least be done one handed with ease.

She caught their left hand between her hands, her own empty Triforce mark covering their own. “I don’t want you to die for me,” her voice was sad but serious as she spoke. “The Hero of Courage is supposed to do great things and vanquish evil, but...I don’t want that if it means I lose you Link. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to mourn you until we’re both creaking and ancient, understand?” Her cheeks pinkened, but she didn’t look away.

They gave a slow nod.

“Good.” Her smile was watery as she let their hand go. “Now I have tea with my ladies-in-waiting in half an hour,” she made a face. “Which will truly be the worst duty a guard has ever faced on their first day.”

Link gave those words the snort they deserved.

Seconds later, and Link was alone in their room. Carefully they set the earrings on the little shelf by the bed. Hand drifting over to run across the chainmail and blue woollen tabard that served as the internal uniform of the Royal Guard. Their fingers caught on the silver embroidery depicting a loftwing, and hoped they’d be able to keep the promise they just made to Zelda.

-

Zelda very carefully and deliberately walked through her rooms to her bedroom before burying her face in her hands and groaning. Why, of all the visions she could have gotten, was kissing Link on the cheek _important?_

-

Gandin sat, naked and humble before the Goddess, while the Chief Guides, and her Earthly Mother anointed her. The brushes tickling her skin, while the paint made it itch. Their murmured prayers filled her ears as they finished.

After collecting the paint pots, the Chief Guides bowed and left, leaving her alone with her Earthly Mother, the Great Sage herself. “Drink,” she handed her a small bowl full of cloudy liquid.

It tasted awful, and the Sage let out a little laugh at the face she made. “It is poison, it _shouldn’t_ taste good,” she pointed out dryly. Standing she bent down and kissed Gandin’s hair. “Your Mother is watching out for you, my child. I _will_ see you in the morning.” Giving her own bow she departed as well.

Exhaling slowly, Gandin lay down, waiting for the poison to begin its work. Hoping that the Sage was right, that her Mother _was_ looking out for her, that she _would_ shed this false-spirit she’d worn all her life and become who she was meant to. That her people would have a King once more. That he would lead them towards the greatness they deserved.

The world began to grow hazy, and her body felt heavier than it should. She gave an exhale, and she felt her spirit leave with it…

_The desert is vast, eternal. The sand does not shift under feet when they move, the spirit too light, ephemeral, there is laughter in the air at the realization. With ease, movement turns to dancing, bodiless voice raised in praise to the Mother who gave this opportunity._

_The desert is empty, but there is no loneliness. The Bright Eye of the Mother watches over all, there is nothing to fear._

_Sand turns to hard earth, cracked and dry as the dance continues. There is no more emptiness, a shape of fire waits in a shadow. “Death waits ahead of you, it always does,” fire crackles. “The only choice is who rules whom.”_

_“I rule, for I will be King.”_

_Laughter becomes a cold wind, though even that cannot touch bodiless spirit._

_The cracked earth leads to a canyon, to a pile of ruins. Another spirit sits on a rock, he spits, and the earth cracks further where it lands. His neck blazes an eerie light, though it does not shine as bright as the hate in his eyes. “The next one, eh? There’ll be a hole in your heart if you survive, one nothing can fill. ‘Least I never found anything, doubt you will, even with the world ripe for the picking.”_

_This is already Known, a piece of the History:_ the _Alunshay_ which the Hylians called Demon King, had a hole in his heart, but we loved him still. Knowing it would not be enough. _There is nothing but to meet the past, this other facet, head on. “Then I will endure, and hope the satisfaction is comfort enough.” A hole in ones heart did not make one evil._

_“Che. We all say that. Better to hope you’re lucky enough to keep yourself, better like me than some of our other selves.”_

_Canyon leads to a cave. Darkness pulsing magenta the further descended. The Cave opens into a garden of bones. A knee deep slog, the rattle of movement doing nothing to drown out the voices. “YOU WILL CHOOSE.” The voices of a hundred hundred Kings speak; all who had been before, all who will come after, guiding._

_They lead to a statue, covered in writhing black and magenta, the features obscured. In one hand is a sword, the other, a trident. “CHOOSE.”_

_For a moment, the black and magenta draw away from the head of the statue, revealing no face at all. The head of the statue cranes back, only for the black and magenta to rush back, yanking it down._

_“CHOOSE.”_

_The sword is huge, but suited for the size of the body, the violent elegance of it tempting. The eye-stone in the hilt winks, and a long tongue slithers out from the pommel, giving a wave. It...disquiets._

_The trident does no such things, only gives off its own baleful air._

_Steps towards the trident, bones rattling with each one. Curiosity, when there is a_ thunk _._

 _Down among the bones is a hammer, as if the crafter of the statue had only stepped away and would return soon to finish the work. Or this is the crafter, and the job is to be finished, to make the statue not a shape, but a_ person _. Fingers curl around the hammer._

 _The world_ roars...

Body and spirit reunite, and lungs work to remember to breathe. His...yes, _his_ —to hold that truth finally a relief—his body ached, and he stretched slightly to ease it.

Paint flaked away as he moved to sit, turning to bow to his Mother.

Rising he walked to her, kissing her cheeks as he murmured prayers of thanks. When he finished, he turned his attention to the two crowns she offered.

The one in her left palm was a near circle of pins, chains connected to each section, ready to attach to a gemstone.

The one in her right was a circlet of two golden serpents entwined, their heads resting on either side of an empty recess. The serpent whose head faced downwards was serene, while the one facing upwards appeared ready to attack the other, their eyes glittered with tiny chips of ruby.

He had a hazy recollection that this was not the first choice he had made, but that did not surprise him. Even such as he could not recall what fully happened in visions. This choice was an easier one, however. For there was no war, and there would not _be_ a war. The gold of the serpents was heavy and cool against his hands as he picked it up and set it upon his loose hair. The weight wasn’t quite right, but it wouldn’t be until he put his stone in the recess.

He stepped out of the Colossus into the desert. The rising sun had yet to warm anything, but he found it didn't bother him as it once had. As he returned home, he sang songs to his Mother as her eye began to rise higher in the sky.

Even as he sang, he found his thoughts turn to Zelda, likely in the middle of her New Year celebration. There had been birthday wishes, and prayers for good luck, in her last letter; though no gift. He recalled an old promise to return to her when he was King, and hoped he would get to keep it—and perhaps she sent no gift because she wished to to give it to him in person. Hopefully there might be some time that could be carved out before her fifteenth birthday.

A strange itching began underneath his skin, distracting him. Too much magic, he realized, building up inside him. With a shout he released it, the sand in front of him exploding upwards and outwards. A laugh of delight escaping him.

The palisade of home appeared in the distance, and he focused himself.

At the gates he was met by his Earthly Mother and the Great Guides once more. The Sage stepped forward and spoke. “Who are you, oh crowned stranger, to seek entrance to our home?”

“Oh, my people.” He spread his arms wide. “I know I have been absent for many years, but do you not recognize your King when he stands before you?”

“If you are our King,” the Sage replied. “Then show us the mark of your Mother, the sign of her Blessing.”

He raised his right fist, showing the back of it to all of them. A golden triangle flared at his will.

The murmurs of the people behind the Sage and the Guides spread like dye in water into the home. And even though the Sage had not pronounced it, he could still hear voices begin to rise in song. _“Let the world know joy,/ for our King has been returned to us…” “...from the depths of the desert you shall rise,/ and thy people deliver…”_

The Sage stepped in front of him, taking his fist into her hands, kissing the Goddess’ mark. “Truly you are the son of our Goddess, the Lord of Might, and our long awaited King.” She stepped back, before offering him black fabric, which he wrapped around his waist.

Singing, voices, all was lost within a cheer that shook the very earth. He was home, and the Gerudo had a King, once more.

It was enough that he could barely notice the sinking need for _more._

-

Evening fell on the other side of the desert, in the, perhaps unoriginally named, Merchant’s Town, people began to settle in for the night.

All save one house, where a magenta light beckoned in those who knew it’s meaning.

Inside were a motley assortment of humans, talking quietly amongst themselves as they nibbled on the provided snacks, waiting for their leader to arrive.

From behind a beaded curtain, a stocky Gerudo woman stepped into the room, all falling quiet as she walked through the assembled people. She turned to them, her magenta eyes appearing to glow with eerie light. “As you have all likely heard, we have failed. _Alunshay_ reached eighteen, and claimed his kingship.”

Voices rose up in anger, quieting when she raised her hand. “But he is not yet the Demon King as he was before, though we can no longer kill him. There are others who still can, thankfully.

“My dreams have told me what must be done. We _all_ must go to the wastelands in the north. There are ruins there that we must uncover, in them we will find a chamber holding what appeared to be a black disk. It is this that will give us the salvation we seek.”

“And Princess Zelda?” A pale Hylian man asked. His question earned murmurs of agreement and worry, for all knew she did not hold the Triforce yet, but would one day. And what would happen to her should she fall under the Demon King’s sway as his bride?

The Gerudo woman gave a grave nod. “Yes, that King Nossalph’s greed and desperation has not swayed him from this terrible decision is still cause for concern. But though we do not know who the Hero yet is, we should trust that he will come to the Princess’ aid and ours, in keeping her safe from any who wish her ill. Including the Demon King.” She spread her hands wide. “Now go, tell those who could not make it of what I have said. Tomorrow morning we all must depart, take nothing except what must be had for travelling, we will meet in the north and seek out these ruins.”

She walked through the crowd again, ignoring the questions her followers asked, and retreating past the curtain. Leaning her forehead against the cool stone wall, she closed her eyes, focusing on the black and magenta pulse behind her eyelids. “It will be done, my Lord.”

-

Zelda chewed her lip, picking up the letter once more she read through it, as if the contents might have changed in the past few minutes.

_Princess Zelda,_

_I must beg your complete and utter forgiveness for the promise I have broken. I know it does not speak well of me as a person, but you also must know that the duties of royalty are vast and many, and take up much of one’s time. Mine more than most, I fear. For while my Gerudo can take care of themselves, there are things only a King can do; and six hundred years without one means there is a mountain’s worth. Perhaps when we meet, you might ask about the number of silver bells I have blessed, though I fear by the time we do meet, the number will be truly incalculable, as grains of sand in the desert. Nevermind the lessons and magics apparently only a King may know, that must now be taught to me._

_So I will do my utmost to see all this done as quickly and competently as possible, and hope that when we do meet, you will harbor no ill-will towards me. It has certainly taught me a lesson of its own, that one must think of the consequences of a promise before making it, otherwise the breaking might be more than one wishes to give._

_My portrait is no substitution, but I hope you will keep it close. And as I know you enjoy a good mystery to set your mind to, I give you this: perhaps you can figure a reason why nearly fifteen of my Gerudo have vanished like morning mist, three of them were even amongst my royal guard, to make this all the more troubling._

_May we meet soon, and behold each other in true,_

_Ghananorv fa’Dragahmire_

Carefully she said the name aloud, as a Gerudo would. Then as a Hylian hundreds of years ago, with no care for the Gerudo, might; coming up with the same answer she had the first half-dozen times. “Ganondorf Dragmire."

She had read through Zelda Nohansen’s journal enough times now, that she could recall whole sections from memory. Each word a stone in her belly. _...I finally met him, the man from my dreams, the one the boy in green warned me about before I sent him away. I know his name now, when once he was only a title. Ganondorf Dragmire, King of the Gerudo, and of Demons_ …

Hugging herself she looked at the statuettes of Nayru and Hylia that sat upon her desk. “Please, let it not be true.” A flare of surprise filled her as she realized she _didn’t_ want it to be true. Didn’t want this... _K_ _ing_ she’d been writing to, that she’d given gifts and slices of her life to, to be the evil Hylia had warned her about. He had made her _laugh_ , evil shouldn’t be capable of that.

Her eyes fell to the portrait he’d included. It’d been hastily done, but with great skill. His red hair had been pulled back in a complicated looking braid, emphasizing his golden crown, with a vibrantly red-orange teardrop gem held between the heads of two serpents. Zelda’s eyes drifted down, his face seemed sharper than she remembered, though the copper eyes were still the same.

She found herself wondering if the gold paint on his lips was true, or something the artist had added in, either way she felt her cheeks heat a little at the sight of them. Not helped at all by her gaze drifting further down, to his large, and very bare, chest. His arms, she found, distracted just as much: thick with muscle and decorated by more gold jewelry. 

Zelda’s hands felt chilly as she pressed them forcefully against her red cheeks. This was...ridiculous. Her fingers did nothing to hide the image of him from her view, and her eyes continued to linger on curves and planes. Despite her reaction, she still found herself thinking he _looked_ the part of a King, even if by Hylian standards he was indecent—a part of her pointed out that he might be _fully_ naked, and she just didn’t know because the portrait ended at his waist, which did nothing at all to help her situation.

Perhaps...perhaps it was something akin to her own family’s tradition; she forced the thought out, needing to be distracted by _something_. Zeldas didn’t pop up _every_ generation, but there were at least eight in the family tree, not counting the many branches that had sprung from the main line. fa’Dragahmire wasn’t even a _name_ , just a title, ‘who wears the serpent crown’—the meaning of ‘fa’ escaped her, however. 

“Ghananorv,” she said to herself quietly. “King of the Gerudo, and my future husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote SaltySaph; "Give that bitch a selfie, bitches love selfies."


	7. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're the sort of person not interested in a 16 yo and a 19 yo getting hot and heavy, then you should probably skip the second library scene, just ctrl+F "He managed to shift a little" and you'll be past it.

Quickly looking around, Zelda ducked into the library before anyone could come down the hall, Link a quiet shadow behind her. She did not _rush_ , but her steps were not slow as she walked through the rows of tables, some filled with visiting scholars—who were thankfully too caught up in their own work to look up.

Zelda found herself an empty row—geography, she absently noted—and taking off her diadem, rested her forehead against the books for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Link standing guard at the end of the row, doing their best to give her a moment of privacy.

After a few heartbeats of just letting herself breath she raised a gloved hand and dug her fingers into the base of her skull, trying to ease some of the tension there.

She was grateful to have serious work to do, even if it was only petty court and the running of the castle, but time alone like this had grown slimmer as a result. Zelda having to steal what time she could, if only to catch her breath.

In five minutes she would have to go back into the castle, she had a meeting with the Head Cook, Bala, about an upcoming dinner party. But by the goddesses she _would_ have five minutes of quiet and solitude.

Turning her head she stared down the row of books, their ordered spines comforting. Except, she gave a little frown as she realized one was sticking out. She moved to push it back in, only to pull it all the way out when she realized it wasn’t a geography book.

It appeared far too cheaply printed for one, the book already looking like it would fall apart if Zelda breathed too heavily on it. The cover simply read _The Adventures of Hilda, vol. 1_ , with not even an author’s name. Curious why a novel would be shelved in geography, Zelda opened to the first page and began reading.

_Hilda patted the neck of her horse, Trusty, as they came upon an inn. She didn’t have much money, but she was certain she and the inn-keeper could work something out._

_Handing Trusty over to a brawny stablehand, Hilda entered the inn. The man behind the counter was tall, with grizzled hair and a scar on his cheek. He eyed her with interest as she approached. “I don’t have many rupees, but I was hoping I could have a room for the night? I could perhaps help in the kitchen, or with cleaning to make up for the lack of money?”_

_“Maybe,” he agreed. Eyes darkening as they lingered on her well-endowed chest. “Let’s discuss it further in my office.”_

_She followed him into the small room, letting out a little yelp when he pinned her to a wall, his cock…_

Zelda let out a little yelp of her own, cheeks burning fiercely as she snapped the book shut.

She knew what sex was, of course, one of her teachers had been tasked with telling her about it when she was twelve. And only a few months ago Riviko and Geitaifi had sat her and Link down to teach the _both_ of them—Zelda wasn’t quite sure which of them had been more embarrassed. Their version of things being _vastly_ different from what her childhood teacher had told her; mostly in terms of _enjoying sex_ , with whom, and how _many_ , one could have sex with, and what to do when someone refused to listen to a ‘no.’

Neither of those things had exactly prepared her for just stumbling across a book possibly filled with sex in the Castle Library.

Link cleared their throat, causing Zelda to nearly jump out of her own skin. Whipping around, she found them right behind her. They’d both certainly taken advantage of Ikafu’s stealth lessons, it was more funny to watch Link sneak up on other guards while in chainmail, however.

“Time to go?” It came out of her in a rush, her heart still doing it’s best to calm down. Quickly she tucked the book into the pocket of her dress hidden behind her girdle.

They nodded, arching an eyebrow in question about the book.

Zelda gave a haughty sniff, and snootily stuck her nose up in the air as she put her diadem back on. “I’m the princess, I’ll steal whatever books I want from the library.”

Link rolled their eyes as they fell in step behind her.

-

Despite the cold of late winter, Zelda still bundled herself up and headed towards the stables, Impa—her shadow for the day—following close behind. Zelda nodded at the stablehands who bowed as she passed; perhaps on the way back she would stop and see Seba—she knew she shouldn’t have named the horse Ghananorv sent her, but she couldn’t help herself.

Past the stables and the dairy was the pigsty. With delicate steps, and holding her skirts up, Zelda walked through the muddy grass around the fence, before stepping up onto the fence itself. She let out a little whistle, drawing the attention of several nearby sows, but they lost interest the moment the boar appeared and trotted up to her, his nose shoving itself into her knees—so it was good this was her oldest, rattiest dress. 

“Hello to you too,” she laughed softly. Reaching through the fence she scratched at his ears, feeling the wiriness of his hair even through her winter gloves. Even though she didn’t quite consider him her pet anymore, she still tried to come visit at least once a month—and would firmly reject any suggestions to slaughter him for this feast or that.

He gave a snuffling grunt, brown eyes watching her as he sniffed along her dress.

She rolled her eyes. “I see how it is, you just want some extra treats.” Reaching into her pocket she pulled out one of the dried apples she’d filched from the kitchen. Boar’s ears perked up, and he sat down with a splat, eyes now watching the apple. She tossed it, laughing again when he only shifted a little to try and catch it, nearly getting it on one of his tusks.

“Princess?”

Zelda could feel her cheeks redden as she turned to find Riviko standing a few steps away. “Yes, Riviko?” She did her best to sound calm, like she met people all the time by the pigsty.

Riviko gave a bow, and Zelda found herself realizing her teacher’s hair was long enough now to be pulled back into a tail—she’d never gathered the courage to ask who Riviko had been mourning for. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?” Zelda asked, caught off guard. While technically the Gerudo answered to her, she was fairly certain if they had problems they went to Nabooru.

“I, I would like to be allowed to return home. I am now expecting, and I wish to bear my child among my family.” She pulled her cloak around her more tightly. Zelda quickly stepped off the fence, much to the boar’s disappointment, and grabbed Riviko’s hands, guiding her towards the much warmer stables.

A quick glare from Impa sent the loitering stablehands scurrying away. “Of course,” Zelda finally answered as she sat on a haybale, gesturing for Riviko to join her. “I would never say no to such a request. Though will it be safe for you to travel?” She knew that was a thing with pregnancies.

Riviko snorted. “I will be fine, Princess, though the concern is welcome. And thank you,” she gave a tight little smile. “I shall tell Nabooru then, and she will send a message to the King to arrange a replacement, and I shall leave when they arrive.”

“Remind Nabooru when she sends this message that Link and I still wish to learn Gerudo Sign, and would appreciate a worthy teacher.”

“Perhaps,” a blush stained Riviko’s cheeks, and she quickly turned away. “Perhaps you could remind her yourself?”

Zelda stared at the older woman for a long moment. “Are you... _afraid_ of Nabooru? But you’re older than her.” By a few decades if Zelda had it right. “Unless, are you afraid she’ll say no to your request?”

“Goddess, no!” Riviko looked horrified by the suggestion. “She will happily send me home when I tell her, it is just...she is powerful, and not just politically. I am...afraid of making a fool of myself.” Riviko looked down at her clenched hands. “She will understand, but I also have my pride.”

“You have no problems talking to _me_ ,” Zelda pointed out.

“Princess.” Riviko gave her a wan smile. “I perhaps see you more as my own _vehvi_ than a Princess.”

Another long stare, a strange sort of pleased surprise filling her at Riviko’s words. “I...you honor me.” She didn’t know how she had earned the consideration of being Riviko’s child, could one even earn such a thing? “You have always been a good teacher, and have given me good advice. As a good _veunvi_ should, and I know you will be so once again to your own child.” Since Riviko had admitted it already, Zelda decided to take the risk in asking her next question. “Would you...like me to go with you?”

They shared a strange sort of laugh together, Riviko’s eyes still sparkling when she answered. “If you are not busy, I do not wish to impose if you have other engagements.”

Zelda did have to think for a moment, only to shake her own head. “Not for an hour, and it shouldn’t take us that long.” Unless Nabooru was already busy herself with something else.

Impa’s expression was bemused as she followed them, and Zelda rolled her eyes at her bodyguard.

The little waiting alcove was empty when they reached Nabooru’s office—Zelda was also grateful the rest of the hall was equally empty, otherwise it would have taken them an hour just to get to Nabooru’s door—and there was a terse ‘enter’ from the other side when Zelda knocked. Impa stayed to watch the door, giving them more privacy.

Zelda had never had much chance to be in any of the Ambassador’s Offices, it wasn’t yet part of her responsibilities, and she wondered if they were all so plainly appointed, or if that was Nabooru’s preference. Was there a kind way to ask that? Zelda was certain if it’d been done as a sort of slight, Nabooru would have already fixed the problem herself. After nearly three years, everyone in the castle knew _Raimedo_ Nabooru, as the guards would say, took no blows.

Nabooru looked up from her desk, and frowned a little. “What an odd combination, is something the matter?”

A few minutes later, Zelda and Riviko were seated in the chairs in front of Nabooru’s desk, Nabooru herself returning to her own seat after finally releasing Riviko from a hug. “Of course I shall let you return, Riviko.” She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began writing. “At least, once your replacement has been sent. Though I fail to see what the Princess has to do with all of this.”

Zelda did her best not to look away from meeting Nabooru’s intent stare, golden-brown eyes curious. “She told me first, and I decided to tag along so that your king knows that Link and I still wish for a teacher in Gerudo Sign.”

Nabooru’s red eyebrows looked like they might disappear into her hair, though she didn’t test this story further, to Zelda’s relief. Instead she finished writing, likely a letter to the King. Zelda expected her to pull out sealing wax and a crest, just as anyone else would. Frowning a little when the woman pulled out a _needle_ instead.

She pricked her finger, letting a few drops of blood fall onto the parchment, before folding up the letter. Then took the chimney off the lamp, holding the letter to it until it was consumed in a flash of fire.

A yelp of surprise left Zelda, and she flushed in embarrassment when Impa’s voice floated through the door a second later. “Princess?”

“I’m fine,” she responded, eyes still a little wide. “What did you _do_?” She would have thought Nabooru would _send_ that letter to...Ghananorv, Zelda made herself think.

“Four weeks is far too long to wait,” Nabooru replied easily. “Not when I have a faster way available to me.”

Zelda frowned. “That was magic? Could you teach me?” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Riviko cough into her elbow. Zelda didn’t know why that was _funny_.

Nabooru eyed her. “Hylians usually get, hmmm, _antsy_ when things like ‘blood,’ and ‘ghosts,’ get bandied about in regards to magic. But yes, it could be taught to you, though it won’t do _you_ much good, not unless you wanted to send messages to your father.”

“So it only works with family?” Zelda reasoned out. “Wait...you’re related to Ghananorv?” She was relieved she said his actual name, and not ‘Ganondorf,’ which her mind wanted to default too, much to her shame.

Riviko gave up on trying to hide her laughter, earning her a sidelong look from Nabooru. “His elder sister, yes.” Before she could continue there was a flash of black, when it faded there was a letter on the desk. “Which I never let him forget,” Nabooru continued seamlessly as she picked the letter up. “Much to our blessed King’s eternal frustration.”

Opening the letter she skimmed it over. “The king will choose a replacement tomorrow, to leave the day after. A healer will arrive with them, to escort you back, Riviko.”  
  
Who managed a little half-bow in her chair. “Our King’s forethought is appreciated.”

“If that is all, you should go. I have a meeting with Ambassador Itos shortly, and must prepare.”

Riviko stood and gave another bow, while Zelda inclined her head. Her mind awash in thoughts as they filed out.

-

Even though it served no purpose, Link found herself smoothing down her tabard before she entered Zelda’s receiving room. Even though she was welcome to come and go as she pleased as Zelda’s guard, when she was asked to come in she felt compelled to make herself _look_ presentable.

In the end she needn’t have bothered, because it was only Zelda and the Gerudo, including a newcomer in a deep blue kaftan, and a curious spray of green feathers in her—though Link was certain if they were in the Gerudo homeland it would be _his_ —long red hair. She stood in front of Zelda, holding a letter and gave a little start when Link came to stand beside Zelda. Deaf, Link realized quickly; since she wasn’t facing the door, she hadn’t known Link had come in.

Zelda took the letter from her and opened it, giving a thoughtful hum. Handing it over to Link when she finished.

It was a short one, thankfully. _This is Demal, she is deaf, though can read lips fairly well so long as you speak sa’suresh. I know she will make an excellent teacher for the both of you._

Standing, Zelda clasped Demal’s hands in her own. “ _Welcome, Demal,_ ” she greeted. “ _Link and I will do our best to learn all you have to teach.”_

 _“Thank you,”_ Demal spelled out after she eased her hands free. _“I will do my best to teach you well.”_

-

As far as dresses she’d worn to her own birthday parties, this one wasn’t the worst, in fact she would say it was her favorite if hse had to choose. The dark blue color made her eyes look almost purple, and she was relieved that the Hytopian designer she’d picked to make it understood the word _simple_. Even the golden embroidery at the collar and hem wasn’t too over the top, only abstract swirls that suggested the shapes of creatures. It matched her hair, which had been carefully braided with indigo ribbons and pinned in coils to her head—oh, to never have to wear a whimple again! She ran her fingers almost meditatively over her girdle, recognizing the Triforces, Nayru’s, and Hylia’s sigils by touch.

He’d understood _simple_ on the dress, but...she turned and sighed at the capelet laying on her bed. She’d wanted feathered embroidery, but instead he’d made it _out of feathers._ It was quite heavy when she picked it up, though she had to admit the golden feathers floated delightfully when she settled it on her shoulders, quickly doing the breastpin before the capelet could slip completely off her shoulders and fall to the ground.

It didn’t make her look as much as a Rito as she’d perhaps feared, but it _was_ very Hytopian. With a sigh she set her coronet on her head, thankfully she’d been able to talk everyone out of trying to drape her in more jewelry, the dress and capelet was decoration enough.

Link’s knock on the door drew her out of her thoughts, and after giving her skirts a shake so they fell right she answered.

Answering the door, she smiled as she saw him. “You look quite handsome.” Her smile turned into a grin. He did even: he’d been given a burgundy tunic instead of the usual tabard guards wore, though it still bore Hyrule’s sigil in silver. And either someone had bothered to polish his chainmail, or he’d been given a silvered set, for it glittered brightly in the light; it went surprisingly well with his Gerudo bracers. Most pleasing to Zelda though was spying the set of emerald studs she’d given him in the tips of his ears.

He rolled his eyes and offered his right arm, tucking his sword out of the way so it didn’t hit her. _“And you look beautiful, ready to smile so much your face hurts?”_ He replied.

“Yes, better get it over with now,” she sighed.

Link’s assessment about her face hurting wasn’t far from the truth, halfway through dinner she could feel her cheeks begin to ache from smiling as each guild, noble, and dignitary presented her with gifts—though not Nabooru, much to her surprise. She glanced at the older woman, she wasn’t _acting_ like she was planning or hiding something. But she had to be, for Ghananorv hadn’t failed in giving her a birthday present yet. 

Eventually the feast, and the gifts, came to an end, and the dancing began as the small orchestra began to play.

Tradition dictated her father got the first dance, which was for the best, for otherwise he’d likely be too far into his cups.

“You look more like your mother every day,” he said as they whirled around the dance floor. “I know she’d be proud of the young woman you’ve become, my dear.”

“Thank you, father,” Zelda answered, strangely touched. Doing her best to adjust to the way her capelet acted almost like a counterweight to her movement. She was sure it looked quite dramatic, but it wasn’t doing much to help her keep her poise.

The dance ended and she gave a curtsy, excusing herself to the table of drinks. The wine was a bit too dry, but if she took small sips it was tolerable.

Hours passed in a blur, and soon her feet ached as much as her cheeks, but as much as she wanted to, it wouldn’t do for the guest of honor to _sit_.

Relief came in the form of a commotion at the doors to the ballroom. She wasn’t the only one to turn her attention toward it, especially when the Crier, looking quite disgruntled, reappeared. He slammed his scepter on the ground, the orchestra trailing off in surprise.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, all assembled. His Majesty.” Zelda’s heart dropped suddenly. “Ghananorv, King of the Gerudo.”

The doors opened, and in he strode, dressed in unrelenting black. His clothes—surprisingly Hylian in style—and his _height_ , made him eye catching, even as he cut through the crowds. Towards _her_.

As he got closer she noticed more: like how his braided hair now reached his knees, a golden ring attached to the end, that appeared to match his crown; that he wore more makeup than even she did, gold painted on his lips and around his eyes, made more striking for the thin beard against his chin. His ears practically threw off rainbows of colors, and Zelda was fairly certain she even saw a glimmer of red against his nose.

He came to a stop in front of her—at least now she came up to the middle of his chest—she didn’t even have time to try and crane her head back to see his face for he knelt in front of her, the clink of the ring in his hair hitting the ground filling the unnatural quiet of the room.

“Princess Zelda.” Even though he had his head bowed, she could make out his copper eyes peering at her through thick lashes. “I greet you as Ghananorv fa’dragahmire, King of the Gerudo and _Alunshay_. It is an honor to meet you at last.”

A spate of whispers spread through the room, for he should have greeted her father first. She was more than certain, however, that Ghananorv knew _exactly_ what he was doing. “I greet you King Ghananorv, unexpected as you are. I bid you welcome, and hope you will partake of our hospitality.”

Her words earned her a flash of a smile, bright against his brown skin and gold lips. He stood, turning him from a reasonable height into a giant again, offering her his hand. “May I have a dance?” His deep voice was pointed. Zelda bit her cheek to keep from laughing as the orchestra nearly made a cacophony to start a new song.

“You may,” she answered. Setting her hand in his and letting him lead her to the floor. Hand settling under her capelet against the small of her back as they began to dance. Her own hands settled on his arms by habit, surprised to find soft velvet under her fingertips.

“You’ve grown, _my_ princess” She jerked her head up at Ghananorv’s voice, meeting his gleaming copper eyes. There was appraisal in that look, and Zelda wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, or the possessive pet name.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve grown, too, _my king_ ,” it was perhaps a little snappish, but she felt she was allowed. Thankfully there were no other couples nearby to overhear them bickering; their graceful dancing making a good lie that all was well. “By the time we wed, I fear you shall scrape the ceiling.”

If she’d been afraid he’d grow annoyed at her own familiarity and biting tongue, she was soon proven wrong. His eyes flashed and he somehow pulled her even closer, making her stumble; but he was steady enough for the both of them. “My deepest apologies, princess. I shall endeavor to control my biology from here on out.” He gave her that lightning grin she remembered.

“I fear it’s already too late,” she told him. “Should you stand at the bottom of the dais, and I atop my throne, I would still have to crane my neck to kiss you.”

He laughed, the deep and rolling sound drawing attention. There was no more appraisal in his gaze, only impish delight. “So you’ve thought of kissing me, hmm?”

“Perhaps,” she replied airly. “Perhaps I have thought of kissing other people as well.” Not quite the truth, but she found she couldn’t help herself.

“Is that so, _my princess_?” He let out a strange rumbling sound, one that made her all too aware of their bodies, pressed almost too close together for comfort. “Tell me, do you still enjoy learning?”

A frown crossed her face at the strange question. “Yes,” she answered slowly.

“Then perhaps we could avail ourselves to somewhere more private, so you might learn how well I kiss, and _I_ can erase the thought of anyone else from your mind.” She flushed under the burn of those eyes.

“That is highly improper, my king,” she murmured, her blush racing down her neck to vanish into her collar. She could feel his eyes tracing the path, which made her blush more furious.

“That does not make it any less enjoyable, my princess,” he answered easily. “In fact, one might argue that it makes it _more_ enjoyable.” The hand resting at the small of her back shifted just a little bit lower. Not exactly cupping her rear, but certainly implying he _might_. It did not move any lower, and Zelda didn't know whether to be relieved or not. Ghananorv’s challenging eyebrow suggested not.

Up in their gallery, the small orchestra ended the waltz. Ghananorv’s hands seemed to vanish as they stepped apart. She curtsied, he bowed, and Zelda took a reckless chance. “The library, five minutes,” she whispered, trying to fight back her blush into something more respectable. “I’ll follow shortly after.” If people saw them leaving together Zelda was certain they would instantly know what was up.

To her surprise he gave no triumphant grin, only a brief nod. His eyes held promise enough, seeming to burn so that she was surprised the copper of his eyes had not melted.

After they parted, Zelda experienced the most agonizing seven and a half minutes of her life. When it was up however, she quietly excused herself from her conversation, then even more carefully she did her best to avoid Link or Impa. Knowing either one would follow her if she tried to leave within their sight. 

It seemed the Goddesses were on her side, for she managed it. Her slippers sushed against the stone floor of the empty hallway, as quickly as she could in her dress and capelet she made her way up the right flight of stairs.

The library door opened without a sound. “Ghananorv?” She asked softly, hoping no one else had taken a shine to some undisturbed reading.

When there was no reply she frowned softly, stepping in and closing the door behind her. Perhaps he’d found a book to entertain himself and was caught up in it; she herself occasionally would fall so deep into a book the rest of the world just disappeared.

A few of the lanterns on the walls had been relit, their golden, magical, light illuminating the front half of the library. “Ghananorv?” She said a little more loudly. She didn’t know if it was disappointment or anger brewing in her chest. He was the one who started this, and he failed to appear? If he _was_ back at the party she was going to hunt him down and...and...kick him very firmly between the legs.

She whirled around, ready to give him that particular piece of her mind. Only to shriek when she realized someone was standing right behind her. Though it didn’t ease her racing heart, her fear did turn to annoyance when she realized it was Ghananorv. Craning her neck back as far as it would go she glowered at him. “Are you done being childish? I thought you were supposed to be _kissing_ me, not giving me a fright.”

“If one does it right, my princess,” he stepped closer, she was tempted to climb onto one of the nearby tables to give her neck some relief. “Fear can make pleasure that much more...vibrant.”

“I’m unconvinced that that is possible _at all,_ ” she replied. “Regardless-” She was cut off by her own yelp when he scooped her up. Those too-big hands settled on her rear as he held her against him, chest to chest, and she could truly look him in the eye. “Much better,” she sounded quite strangled. This close she could make out that he _did_ have a gemstone on the side of his nose, a ruby, if she had to guess.

He began walking, to her surprise, his gaze never leaving hers as he took them a little deeper into the library. He stopped, and she found herself being set down on top of what had to be one of the half-height shelves. It did put her a little lower, but it still made things far easier than they would be otherwise.

One of his rough hands settled on her neck, thumb tilting her chin up. “So then, Princess,” he rumbled. “Shall I kiss you?”

Any words Zelda might wish to speak dried up in her throat, forcing her to nod instead.

Ghananorv bent down and brushed his lips against her more gently than she’d imagined. To her surprise, and eventual annoyance, he _kept doing it_. Until she let out a frustrated noise and yanked him closer by his doublet.

This time his laughter rumbled through her, but she stifled it when she dragged her tongue against his golden lips. He opened them, but as she began to push her tongue in, his own met it and pushed it back, until it was beginning to slip past her own lips.

Kissing in books, Zelda thought absently, did not do justice to the act itself. Her arms moved, one hand remaining in his doublet, the other sliding into his hair, curling tightly amongst the braided strands. She didn’t know where his other hand was, but the one on her throat remained, and she found herself moaning softly at the strange sensation of it.

Zelda didn’t know how long they kissed for, only that it was utterly consuming. In fact the only reason she broke away was because his absent hand settled on her _quite bare_ knee. She jerked her head away from him enough to look down. Her skirts had been pushed up, looking more than a little ridiculous. They concealed his hand in fact, but she could _feel_ it. Calluses catching against her soft skin as his thumb brushed against the very top of her knee.

She looked back up to see him watching her intently, even as he looked a bit silly with gold now smeared across his lips. “Shall I move my hand?” His voice rasped against her too, and she shivered.

“Yes, I mean, no, I…” She made a frustrated sound at her own inability to speak.

His hand remained there. “I can be patient,” somehow that rumbling voice soothed instead of excited. “Just tell me _exactly_ what you wish.”

Zelda let out a slow breath, her hand left his hair, until both were absently straightening his doublet, the simple act helping her focus. “I...I believe I would quite like your hand _higher_ , my king.” She was relieved by her own firm and convincing tone.

Copper eyes flared, and Zelda felt surprised she did not turn to ash. Nor did she turn to ash when his hand slipped higher up, it and half his arm now hidden by her dress, until his fingers touched the thin cotton of her underwear. It startled a sound out of her as the heat in her flared higher.

His fingers stroked and petted at her, as gently as his initial kisses had been. Unable to stop her body she squirmed, falling forward some until she was half braced against him. “ _I_ ,” she managed to gasp out. “Can do better than that, my king.” Perhaps her panting lessened the challenge of it, but she’d still managed to _say_ it, which was what really mattered.

“If you insist, my princess.” His fingers moved her underwear aside and…

She clutched him tightly and bit at his shoulder to muffle her shriek. He continued to tease at her clit while a finger began pressing against her lips. She knew well how many of her own fingers she could take, but his were so much _bigger_ —she wondered how many he would try to push in…

He kept up his insistent pushing, until she parted around him and he sunk in to the first knuckle. They both let out sounds of surprise. Zelda met his gaze again, an act that felt far more intimate than the fact his finger was _inside her_. “More,” was her panted demand.

“Greedy,” he growled. “I think I quite like that on you, my princess. Makes me think about what else might make you so.”

Before she could give a tart reply, he began pumping his finger in and out, and a second one began to tease at her entrance. Zelda wasn’t sure she _could_ take it, but she wanted to _very much_. Her hands scrambled for his face, tugging him down so they could kiss again.

Ghananorv seemed happy to comply, swallowing the sounds she gave him as he continued to move his fingers. Pushing her closer and closer to orgasm.

Achingly slow the second finger began to push in, and she bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Copper filled her mouth as she pulled away. “Goddesses, _Ghan..._ ” She clung to him as he stretched her.

He made a pleased rumble that shook her and made her clench around him. He shoved both fingers deeper in retaliation and she let out a wail. “Close,” she managed to gasp. Goddesses, she _needed_ this, the sensations completely unlike when she’d used her own.

She felt his free hand sink into her hair, certainly ruining all the painstakingly made coils, drawing her closer so they could kiss again.

Which she was infinitely grateful for a few seconds later when the door to the library _opened_.

“I thought I’d find you both here,” Nabooru’s voice floated lightly to them.

Zelda might have derided his height earlier, but now she found it made _excellent_ cover.

“Nabooru,” Ghananorv’s voice was rough, but no less dangerous sounding.

“I just wanted to tell you that if you’re gone for much longer other people will start to come looking. Ones less accepting than I,” Nabooru sounded utterly brazen and unafraid. “So better make it quick.” The door closed.

Burying her face in his chest, Zelda groaned, utterly mortified.

To her surprise, Ghananorv did _not_ remove his fingers right away. Instead his thumb brushed against her clit absently. “Shall I continue?”

Zelda jerked her face away from his chest, feeling her cheeks burning. “Ghananorv,” even in her mild annoyance she couldn’t miss the way his eyes flared when she said his name. “Your sister just caught us…” Her pleasure scrambled mind raced to find the right word. “...fornicating.” Which hardly felt appropriate for what they _were_ doing, but she could think of nothing else.

“Ah, Zelda, my princess. The only difference between now and a minute ago is that I know we can do not much else, but this... _fornication_ ,” he let out a chuckle. “Unless you wish me to stop, I will happily continue.”

Somehow that made her blush deepen. Despite the interruption, her arousal _did_ still linger, and she found she didn’t want to return to the party in such a frustrated state. Taking a deep breath she met his gaze. “Continue,” she said.

He leaned in closer, heat sinking into her as his breath against her ear made her squirm. “It will be quick,” he murmured. “And perhaps not as gentle as you might like.”

“I don’t care,” she replied tartly. “Just-” His fingers moved, thumb pressing against her clit and the two fingers inside her rubbing against _something_ , setting her aflame far more quickly than even she could have imagined. A shriek left her as she clung to his doublet again, shaking as he kept going.

More, more...close, so close... 

A scream was ripped from her again as she finally orgasmed, she slumped against him, feeling boneless and relaxed. She let out a disappointed mewl when his fingers slipped out, and he gave a rich chuckle in response.

He managed to shift a little without dislodging her, much to her relief. In her hazy line of sight she could see him begin to wipe his fingers clean, a glimpse of yellow and green around the hem of the handkerchief making her frown. Though it took her brain perhaps far too long to actually recognize the cloth. “Is that…” her voice sounded almost dreamy, to her own surprise. “Is that the handkerchief I made you when I was twelve?” She was still floating in the aftermath of her orgasm, so didn’t have to decide whether to be pleased or embarrassed to see it again.

“It is,” he answered. “I have treasured it as I have all your gifts. And now it will carry for me the scent of the sweetest flower I have found.”

A choked sound left her, her blush returning. “That...I... _oh_.”

He laughed again. “Ah, what a conundrum you give me. Whether to hope you grow used to such words and take them as your due, or that they might continue to fluster you in such a delightful manner. Both are tempting.”

Starting to recover, Zelda managed to push herself upright, giving him a half-hearted smack on the shoulder. “In my defense, my king,” she replied primly. “I have not been subject to such flatteries before. I’m sure I shall be flustered for some time yet before I grow accustomed to them.” 

“Not flattery,” he corrected. “Only the truth, a king does not flatter. You flatter _me_ with such sweet replies, ‘my king,’ ‘Ghan,’” his copper eyes were warm as he took one of her hands and kissed her fingertips. “What other names shall I wrest from you, I wonder?”

Zelda was the first to look away, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her eyes looked down, and widened. For even though his trousers were the same unrelenting black velvet as his doublet, neither could quite conceal the...sizable endowment within. A squeak left her, and she bit her lip for a moment, not quite believing what she was about to do. “Will you...be staying long, Ghan?” At this rate ‘blushing’ was going to be her new permanent state.

“Sadly, no.” His fingers grasped her chin, tilting her face upwards. Subjecting her to the heat in those copper eyes once more. “I must return home tonight. Though I would stay if I could, to see how you would reciprocate what I have given you.”

“Oh,” she couldn’t help the mournful note in her voice. “Wait...I should hope you did not travel two weeks _just_ to be at my birthday party.” If he were that lackadaisical a king, why had he not come sooner?

His lips quirked in a smile. “No, Zelda, I did not travel two weeks for your birthday party, and I shall be home before my Mother’s eye shines upon the sands.”

“How?” She didn’t know such a thing was _possible_.

His smile grew. “Magic, perhaps once you join us in the desert, I shall teach you. If you wish. Now we do not have enough time for such a lesson.” A disappointed sigh left her and he laughed again. “I think you are more disappointed in that, then being able to...handle me at your leisure.”

She gave a little laugh of her own. “Perhaps,” she agreed ruefully. She _knew_ magic after all, for all that she’d read books describing what women could do to men. Looking herself over she sighed, plucking a broken feather from her capelet—though a little grateful it was the only casualty in their tryst. “Help me down?” It would be easier to fix herself standing than sitting. Her face and hair had likely suffered the worst.

Again, she found herself lifted with ease, which made her heart race anew. Once he’d set her down, he plucked the feather from her hand, and to her surprise, tucked it into the end of his braid.

“Someone might figure out what we did,” she found herself protesting. As princess she, perhaps unfortunately, needed to be above reproach. Even with her being betrothed to him, there would be more than a few frowns if people knew.

Ghananorv snorted derisively. “Is it not some tradition or other, that a lady give a favor to her knight? If people question it, would that not be an acceptable answer?” It sounded a little like a challenge.

“Yes,” she answered, understanding his defensiveness. “I’m sorry, I just…” She waved hand. “I do wish a little things here were more like the Gerudo way,” she said. “That is not the case, unfortunately.” She moved away from him to the nearest window, touching her gold-smeared lips briefly, sighing over her hair. Luckily her dress and hair didn’t require a maid to undo, so she would have to come up with no explanation on that end. She met his gaze for a moment through their reflections in the glass.

Returning to him she grabbed his hand and led him back to the tables, grabbing an inkwell, quill, and parchment from the nearest one. Quickly drawing the illusion sigils Impa had taught her ages ago on the parchment for him. “If you draw these on you somewhere while imagining what you want to look like, it will hide your appearance for a few hours. Quicker than trying to find a powder room, for either of us.”

Filling the quill she rolled up her sleeve, taking a deep breath to focus herself and her magic she wrote them as lightly as she could on her arm, picturing herself as she’d been when she’d stepped into the library. As she finished the last stroke she felt the magic settle against her, warm and comforting. “See?” Carefully she blew on the ink to get it to dry faster.

“Impressive,” he hummed.

Refilling it for him, she offered the quill. He took it carefully, studied the sigils she had written on the parchment, then to her surprise raised the quill to his face, drawing the symbols across his cheeks, reversed even, so that it read properly for her. The sigils glimmered for a moment with a golden light, before they disappeared, leaving him as he’d been in the ballroom—even hiding the feather.

“Thank you, all looks well.”

His smile looked a little strange under the slight filter of the magic, but it would look better with brighter light she knew. “Thank you for the lesson. Shall you return first? Or I?”

“Me, I think,” she answered sadly. “And then wait a moment before you follow.” Carefully she pulled down her sleeve to cover the marks.

“As you say, my princess.”

-

Link was certain his teeth had been ground down to the roots by the time he found Zelda, expression placid as she appeared at the bottom of a set of stairs. “ _Where have you been?_ ” 

“I needed some fresh air, and privacy,” she lied. _Almost_ convincingly, if it’d been a normal guard who caught her, she would’ve gotten away with it. As it was, Link could see the illusion magic shimmering over her, hiding _something_. Not that most would be able to see it, perhaps it was the only good quirk of the mostly quiet Triforce of Courage.

 _“Still should’ve_ told _me. Why are you covered in magic?”_ He was more relieved that she was alright than anything else, not that that was _good_.

“I wanted to be alone,” she replied a little testily. “I _can_ defend myself, and send you a distress call without anyone realizing it if I absolutely had to.” Her tone gentled as she continued. “You’re right, I _did_ get tired of smiling all night.”

Most of that was true, but she was lying still. “ _What happened?_ ” Something had to, for her to use magic and try to lie to _him_.

She let out a sigh. “Link,” now at least she sounded fond, if mildly annoyed. “I...Nothing happened that I didn’t ask for, alright? Just...leave it at that, please?” She reached out and set her hand on his shoulder, the weight delicate.

He let out a sigh of his own. _“Fine, but you owe me.”_

“Thank you.” She graced him with a full smile, before bending her head down and kissing his cheek. She pulled away suddenly, her own cheeks pink. “Oh.” Before he could question her, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to Sign even if he wanted to, she vanished into the crowd. Heart stuttering, Link found himself reaching up to touch his cheek. Frowning when he saw it came away dusted with _gold_? 

Oh. No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it.

Determined, though for what purpose Link didn’t know, he began heading up the stairs she’d descended. He was near the landing that led to the library when he heard footsteps. King Ghananorv appeared a few seconds later, wearing the same hazy layer of illusion magic Zelda was. “Link.” His deep voice seemed to echo the strange _itchy_ feeling that began to fill Link. Why would the Triforce act up _now_ of all damn times? “I was hoping we would see each other.”

Link arched an eyebrow. _“Your Majesty,_ ” he greeted. He might as well go for broke right? _“I already told Zelda I wouldn’t say anything_.” Not _quite_ the truth, but Link really wouldn’t tell anyone, so it counted.

The king let out a booming laugh, that echoed up and down the stairwell. He stepped closer, and the itchiness changed, becoming a strange pull _towards_ the king. Link would call it magic, but then he’d _know_ and be able to see it in some fashion. “Quite the bold _vuei_ you’ve become, Link. And I see you’ve also become a guard, as you wished to be.” The king appeared to look Link over, and he...didn’t quite know what to think of that.

“ _I serve Princess Zelda,”_ he answered with a nod.

The king nodded back. “So I have been told.” Link wondered which of the Gerudo here had told him. “And her friend besides.” He stepped closer, forcing Link to take a step back—only for him to hit the wall. “Nothing else?” It was a quiet challenge, and Link _definitely_ didn’t like the way it twisted his insides.

...He perhaps did like the urge to _punch_ the king, even if that would be an _incident_. Instead he narrowed his eyes.

Before he could do more the king reached up and rubbed his thumb against Link’s cheek, his own eyebrows raised in response when it held it up for Link to inspect. The gold on it a little damning.

Ignoring the pull, and the warm, twisted up feeling in his belly, Link bared his teeth. “ _Do you doubt Zelda that much?”_ His fingers almost felt like knives as he asked the question.

“I do not,” the king replied, voice equally sharp. He grabbed one of Link’s arms, gold dusted thumb rubbing against one of Link’s bracers. “I’m glad to see you accepted the gift as you should.” If Link weren’t used to Zelda’s own occasional leaps in conversation, the change in subject would have definitely caught him off guard. The king looked him over again. “Hmmm, you seem to have stopped growing. Perhaps you would like the full set now?”

Link sputtered. He really _was_ going to punch the king, incident be damned.

The grin that spread across the king’s face suggested he somehow knew of Link’s thoughts, and found them humorous. “You need not decide now, tell Nabooru when you do. I, however, must go. I still have other gifts that I must give _my_ Princess before I leave.” He stepped away from Link and inclined his head. “Until next time.”

As he walked away, Link found himself desperately wishing he could speak, if only to hurl a stream of obscenities at the Gerudo King.

-

Zelda was in the middle of a conversation with the Rito prince, Ukoll, when she spotted Ghananorv out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise he headed her way again, though perhaps it was only to make his excuses and leave.

When he arrived next to her she blinked to see a thin, but sizable, case in his hands. “Princess.” He inclined his head. “Prince Ukoll. How is your sister?”

She knew he was being polite, but she found her curiosity wanted to know what was in the case more than she wanted to know about Princess Frin and her first clutch of eggs.

“Well enough, Your Majesty,” Ukoll replied, his yellow and brown crest rising as he continued. “She’s stopped brooding over them, much to everyone’s relief. Rorth wanted me to convey his thanks for the cradles, and I’m sure Frin will give them too, when she’s more herself.”

Ghan...he hadn’t minded her calling him that out loud, and it _was_ far quicker than Ghananorv, smiled. “Think nothing of it, and I hope Frin and her husband get much use out of them. Now if you will excuse me, Ukoll, I would steal Princess Zelda from you.”

Ukoll’s beak clicked in a smile. “Go right ahead, Your Majesty.”

“Even for my betrothed, you seem intent on taking up all my time,” Zelda said in airy tease as she followed him a few steps away. Her fingers itched to take the case from him and open it, his gifts were always unusual and she wanted to know what he would give her this time.

He gave her a toothy grin. “You seem to have enjoyed it so far, I think you will enjoy this as well.” He turned the case so that a delicate looking clasp appeared before her.

She found herself grateful that the illusion she wore covered her blush, otherwise she would certainly be drawing more attention than she already was. More people seemed to realize that he was presenting her with a gift however, and turning their attention towards them. Wanting their privacy back as quickly as possible, and in a genuine desire to know, Zelda undid the catch quickly, opening the case.

The sound of surprise that left her as she stared down at the jewelry set caught her off guard. It was a full traditional set too—ear tips having gone out of fashion nearly a hundred years ago—she picked one of the ear tips up, the winter gold shimmering in the light, in contrast to the three pale blue hexagonal pillars that dangled from the bottom. Only to nearly drop it as she felt magic tingle against her fingertips.

Oh, how she wanted to ask about _that_ , for she saw no sigils or marks carved into the metal or stones. But there were already people whispering about this gift, and she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, or offend him with such a question. If all else failed she could ask Nabooru at a later date. _Especially_ , her mind whispered, _if this is the beginning of some nefarious plot._

She set the ear tip down, tracing a finger along the two sets of armbands—one set was more of the pale blue stone, the layered chips looking like snake scales, the other set was winter gold inlaid with pale blue and white in the traditional Gerudo pattern.

Drop earrings, the hexagonal pillars mimicking the tips. Hairpins, with the most delicate looking chain of winter gold she’d ever seen and chips of that blue stone and diamonds, the points of which she was certain could injure someone. Bangles, stud earrings, and a circlet of more of that impossibly thin chain, at the center hung a teardrop of the same pale blue stone the size of her thumb—clearly an echo of his own crown—and dangling on either side were more chips of blue stone and diamond.

The only thing that topped it all was the necklace. Three more fine chains connected to a teardrop of winter gold, within which was another teardrop of the blue stone. And seemingly held there by magic between the chains, more chips.

A set certainly fit for a queen, and all of it imbued with magic.

“I...thank you, King Ghananorv, it is a beautiful set. Though I am curious, what is this blue stone?” _That_ at least she could ask. She was certain it wasn’t sapphire, or the deep blue lajevard that the Gerudo favored.

“Topaz,” he answered. “Though it is not the most common color, it does occur from time to time. We prefer it’s more...fiery colors.” She huffed, even as she glanced at his own red-orange stone. “But these seemed all too fitting for you, as a follower of Nayru.”

Her heart stuttered for a moment. “You know me well.” She wanted to enjoy that fact, but something dark and awful whispered that he might one day use it against her. “Again, I thank you.”

Ghan closed the case with a nod, holding it out for her. Once she took it he gave a low bow. “I wish I could remain longer, my Princess. But I must return home. I shall hope our next meeting is not too far away.”

“I shall hope so too, King Ghananorv,” she replied.

As she watched him leave she also hoped it would be a happy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in what [some of the pieces of Zelda's set look like...](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1VxSWdnyVwynYilVErZsRkFrhFtnq6-cs/view?usp=drivesdk)
> 
> Also blue topaz can exist in nature (tho most you’ll see in stores is artificial), it’s just _very_ rare.


	8. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

Zelda managed to wrest some free time for herself out of her busy schedule a few days later, and with Link, and Ghan’s gift in tow, she once again went to the Ambassador’s hall.

She was certain it didn’t actually take that long to make it through to Nabooru’s door, but it felt like it. Link getting caught up in a conversation with Gor Cordon, Ukoll asking her about the possibility of using Rito musicians at the Din’s Day celebration, alongside the usual Sheikah ones. Link fending off yet another Hytopian designer hoping to win the right to make her wedding dress—that her actual wedding was not for another four years didn’t seem to matter. She’d gotten free time, only to have it filled with more work, Zelda huffed in mild annoyance.

Link snorted back as they finally reached Nabooru’s door. “Would you like to switch places?” She asked tartly as she knocked.

The question earned her another snort, this one of clear denial.

There was no immediate answer, though Zelda knew Nabooru was in today. Zelda was willing to wait, though she was certain that her later meetings would be displeased at being made to wait themselves—they would also be too polite to make this known.

Eventually though, Nabooru did answer, arching her eyebrow at the both of them. “Who will you come with to visit me next, Princess? It has been an interesting set so far.”

Zelda felt the tips of her ears redden, but she held her resolve. “I had a question I wished to ask you, if you have the time.”

“I do,” Nabooru answered. Stepping inside she gestured for Zelda to enter. Letting out a brief hum when Link followed, instead of waiting by the door. She didn’t comment on it however, only took her seat behind the desk. “What is it you wish to know?”

Carefully, Zelda set the case on Nabooru’s desk, opening it to reveal Ghan’s gift. “There’s magic in these, I want to know what the spells are, if you can tell me. Also...I am curious to know how it was _done_ , for I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

Nabooru picked up one of the stone bangles—one of the ones that glittered as a diamond would, though Zelda was certain it could not be a diamond itself. “ _I_ cannot tell you the spells that were folded into the metal as it was cast…” She set the bangle down and stood. Going to her door and sticking her head out into the hall before giving a sharp whistle.

The young, reedy voice of a page answered shortly after, and she sent them to get Demal.

“Demal?” Zelda asked as Nabooru returned to her seat.

“She is skilled in discerning such magics, she will be able to answer your first question. As to the second.” Nabooru shrugged. “I am not sure how to answer. Such a thing is not _common_ , but it is not unheard of either. The caster lays their spells in as the metal is being shaped and forged, planting it firmly. To break the spell you must break the item.”

Zelda shook her head. “Persistent magic needs symbols and sigils to keep it in line, otherwise it will go wild and cause chaos,” she insisted. “These may be fine _now_ , but what about next week? Or a few months down the line?”

“Princess,” Nabooru’s tone had an edge to it. “I can assure you that my brother, who is most likely the caster of these magics, means you no harm. _Your_ magic might go wild, but we Gerudo have been doing this for _hundreds_ of years.” Reaching up to her long horsetail of red hair she pulled out a pin. “Touch.”

Reluctantly Zelda did. “Magic,” she said. The familiar zip coursing through her. 

Nabooru offered it to Link, but they shook their head. “ _Can tell from here,"_ they explained.

“Tell Demal,” Nabooru answered with a click of her tongue. “She’ll be able to help you train that. Skills should not be left untended.” She tapped the hairpin against the desk in emphasis. “The spells in this aid in communication and understanding. All _Raimedo_ are given one as part of their office. It has served me well for the past _three_ years, as it served the _Raimedo_ who came before me, for _hundreds_ of years.” She wove it back into her hair. “We Gerudo learned the ways of it shortly after the Rito introduced us to the Hytopians. The best of them can weave the very fabric they use full of magic, many only stitch it into their clothes, it is from this that we adapted our own ways.

“It has allowed us to do much, including master lightning.” She finished, golden eyes flat.

Something in Zelda still wanted to protest. For the way she’d been taught magic, laying the spell in fabric or metal should have been _impossible_. Yet she had two examples now of the Gerudo being able to do just that.

“The Chief Guides,” Nabooru continued after a moment’s silence. “Have told me that part of your marriage agreement involves the teaching of such magics to you Hylians, upon the condition of your first child. If what they have said is true, your father wished it sooner, but they held fast. To be certain you are all ready for such teachings, if you can be taught at all.”

Zelda felt herself grow a little cold at that. She rarely ever thought of her betrothal in terms of the contract anymore, though perhaps she should have read it long ago. To know what exactly her father had promised, and been promised in return. “I see.”

A knock on the door thankfully halted the conversation.

Demal stepped in a few seconds later, the hem of her kaftan swaying as she bowed to them all. “ _You wished to see me?”_ Her fingers seemed to flow as she signed, granted Sa’suresh as a language was more flowing than Hylian had ever been.

“ _Yes,_ ” Nabooru answered in Sa’suresh. She turned the case so that Demal could see inside. “ _The Princess wishes to know what magics reside in the gift our Neseu has chosen to give her.”_

Nodding, Demal reached out and took another one of the bangles, rolling it between her hands for a few moments before setting it down. She did it with three other pieces from the set before answering. “ _Protection, mostly. To keep her safe while she wears them. Also...a,_ ” Damal's brows furrowed in thought. _“Find me spell, in case something is lost, or stolen. If there are any other magics, I cannot find them.”_

“ _Thank you, Demal_ ,” Nabooru said. _“For the time, and expertise, you may go.”_

Demal bowed again, then left.

Zelda chewed on her lip as she stared at her jewelry. She believed what they were saying, but something in her didn’t quite want to. “Thank you, _Raimedo_ for your own valuable time. It has been an educational meeting.”

“It is my duty to create understanding,” Nabooru replied. “While I am not here to teach you as the others are, I have still done my own work in dispelling the mists of illusions from you. I hope you will use the knowledge well.”

“I will try,” Zelda answered slowly. Closing the case she gathered it up again. Nodding her head to Nabooru she turned and left, Link trailing behind her once again.

The hall was empty when they stepped into it, but Zelda kept walking until they were in a little used side hall. She sagged against a wall, taking a few deep breaths. “I need some fresh air, and time to think. Will you go get Impa for me, please?” She asked Link.

Grateful when they nodded and trotted off.

-

Link and Impa found Zelda sitting in the formal gardens, the case full of jewelry open in her lap once more. From what Link could tell she was wearing some of it already, pale blue armbands glimmering dully in the sunlight.

Link continued to stand at attention, while Impa kneeled. “You wished to speak with me, Princess?”

Even though she had no mirror, Zelda held up the pendant earrings as if she could see her own reflection. Maybe she could, though Link could feel no magic besides the spells around Impa, and the ones in the jewelry case. Setting it down she gave her attention to Impa. “I did. Tell me Impa, do you Sheikah know the ways of putting magic into metals?”

“No,” Impa answered. “Or not presently at least. I am told, long ago before the Sheikah Revival, there were magics the Sheikah race knew that involved putting spells into objects for various uses, one of which had to do with an iron mask. Though I think only one such item still survives, and it is likely such teachings were lost alongside so much else during the Great Quake. Why do you ask?”

Zelda sighed as she picked up one of the ear tips, carefully sliding it onto her ear—Link felt grateful she’d only gotten them studs, and nothing like _that_. “I have been told that the Gerudo _can_ do such things, and that they will teach it to us Hylians upon the birth of my first child. Did you know of this?”

Link was perhaps a little grateful they weren’t on the receiving end of Zelda’s ire. Granted Impa showed no discomfort at being so, her lined face as impassive as always. “I did,” she said. Her silence implying she wouldn’t elaborate further.

“Why did you not tell me?” Zelda sounded almost forlorn, and Link found they wanted to do _something_ to make her feel better. “How can I make good decisions if I am not given all the information that can be given? This is my _life_ Impa, I deserve to know what has been promised in my name.”

“You were a _child_ ,” Impa argued back. “At thirteen, it should not have been your burden to bear. You are not Zelda the Wise, Your Highness, for which I thank Hylia for daily. Perhaps next year, after your birthday, I would have suggested you look into it yourself, until then what did it matter what you knew?”

A sigh left Zelda. “I know _now_ , and I would know it all. I want a copy of the contract, or perhaps the original, myself. I want to know what my father gets out of this, and what I will. And what the Gerudo stand to gain as well.”

Impa bowed her head. “Yes, Your Highness. I shall have it for you by tonight.” Rising she strode off.

Another sigh, Zelda ran her fingers across the necklace at the center of the case. Taking the risk, Link stepped up and set their hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Her smile in response was a little watery. “Thank you, Link,” Her indigo eyes stared out into the distance. “Had I known before I was born, what a burden Wisdom might be, I think I would have told the Goddesses to give this mark to someone else.”

Link crouched in front of her, so she could see them sign. “ _That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time. Why do you get to say it, but not me?”_ They complained.

The sound of Zelda’s laugh was a relief. “Because it sounds better when I say it,” she responded tartly.

-

As Impa had promised, Zelda found what appeared to be the original marriage contract on her desk when she turned in for the night.

Sitting down Zelda lit the candles next to her and began to pour over it. Stopping only when her neck began to protest being bent for so long.

Stretching, Zelda mulled over all she’d read. Like Impa had said, there was a clause stipulating when the Gerudo would begin to teach their magics to the Hylians. Though Zelda had to wonder if it would truly be counted at her firstborn child, or if they wouldn’t be considered legitimate until she and Ghan were married in the royal ceremony. There would be a two year gap, after all, between her going to live with the Gerudo, and that ceremony, and considering what had happened last week, Zelda was sure neither of them would see sex as a necessary chore.

Her moving was written about at great length too. No surprise there, considering it technically meant Hyrule wouldn’t have a Crown Princess for two years. Though she frowned at the stipulation that no Sheikah was allowed to accompany her—in fact it seemed no Sheikah were welcome at all in the desert, she hoped if she asked Impa she’d get an answer.

Zelda might not have been well versed in contracts, but so far it seemed that Hyrule got the better deal than the Gerudo did. Yet she doubted the _vuenvi’rin_ had let Father’s people walk all over them, they were too proud for that.

Resuming her position she continued to read. Stopping, then rereading a section.

_...It is agreed that, upon marriage to Zelda Hyrule the Seventh, the King of the Gerudo, Ghananorv shall be crowned as king to her queen. The two of them ruling as equals…_

A laugh escaped Zelda. If it was true that Ghan and Ganondorf were the same...spirit, then it seemed it had only taken six hundred years for Ganondorf to achieve his goal of ruling Hyrule. She could hope that might be enough to avert whatever evil that vision from years ago was trying to warn of.

Not that she was sure them being the same _was_ true. If they were, wouldn’t he have done _something_ by now? Instead of ruling his people while Hyrule grew richer from a deal they’d made with said people?

Ganondorf had been known for his cunning and intelligence—even Zelda the Wise had only had suspicions before her own Link had appeared. A year, perhaps two, would make sense for a trick or plot of some sort. But _five_?

She found herself recalling one of Zelda the Wise’s entries, about how she hadn’t been able to think of another way out of the war than Ganondorf’s death. If she had thought of marriage as an option, would she have taken it? Would he?

Looking up to her statuettes, Zelda let out a little sigh. “Please, let this be the end. That my feeling won’t come to pass.”

The Goddesses were silent.

-

_Dearest Princess,_

_I find the scent of the sweetest flower is of great respite during my work. Though perhaps occasionally inconvenient, for it leads me to wonder how you will feast my other senses. I may know the touch and the scent of the flower, but what will I see when I look upon it? What is the color of the petals, of the pollen that dusts them? How does it tremble under the wind of pleasure and desire?_

_And what of sound? Though it cannot sing as sweetly as the birds above, I wish to know how the petals rustle, how the sound will differ when they are replete with nectar._

_Ah, that which torments me most of all, that I did not grant myself a taste of such nectar. Though taste and scent are linked, a scent is not enough to truly grant one the breadth of taste. When next we meet, I fear I shall steal you away, if only to rectify this grand oversight. I have strength enough to hold you up while I coax that precious flower to grant me that which I seek._

_I should hope you would be amenable to such consummation,_

_Ghananorv_

Zelda buried her burning red face in her hands and groaned. Her body squirming as it tried to relieve the ache growing in her. “Wretched, _horrible_ , man,” she muttered, her voice lacking any sort of heat or censure. “I will not be able to _sleep_ now, damn you.”

Pulling her hands away she grabbed parchment and quill, certain that it would be better to respond while she remained in the throes of frustration, than after she’d received satisfaction.

-

_Your Majesty,_

_Your words are quite stirring, and I find they, and the memory of your fingers learning my flower, will creep in as they please, giving no mind to what I may be doing. I think this is excellent preparation for_ you, _my king._

_While you have some knowledge of this flower you treasure, I find it quite unfair that I have no such equal of you. I have read many a book where women use ‘feminine wiles’ to get what they please, and at our last meeting I perhaps should have attempted to use such upon you, so that I might avail myself to the knowledge of your king’s scepter. For the good of my education, of course, for it is generally frowned upon for a princess to see any such thing, even in drawing—though I have, of course, seen it in drawing, and read it lovingly described in certain novels as well._

_I know that it is a general rule that such things are proportional, which would make yours a kingly scepter indeed, though like the breasts of a woman this is not always true. So my curiosity is quite piqued, and demands satisfaction. Perhaps after you are done with your feasting, I might finally gain the knowledge I seek._

_Zelda_

Laughter bubbled up from Ghananorv’s chest, while lower down there came the demand to go visit her right now and remedy both their situations. His hand absently reached up, tugging gently on the blue topaz earring there; his magic sparked, letting him feel the fine thread that connected it to its kind. The space between them so far, yet now so easy to cross. No one would know save the two of them.

Something in his chest urged him to go. It would be so easy to bend and shape her...

 _No_ , he shook his head sharply to dispel the thought, as much as he might wish to cultivate this growing lust they shared, he needed to remain here. Tempting as it was.


	9. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

Zelda felt a little strange looking down at the chest of clothes. They were, ostensibly, _her_ clothes, though she’d never seen them before in her life. Moreso because they were a _gift_ , from Ghan.

For her eighteenth birthday.

It was no wonder her maids hadn’t sighed over them when she’d first opened it a few hours ago. She was leaving in a few days, and these clothes didn’t require help to put on. Zelda knew they’d been paid well, and she was giving them good references; but she was certain they’d likely enjoyed the privileges of being maids to the Crown Princess.

Reaching into the seemingly bottomless chest of black clothes she wrapped her fingers around something silken and pulled. They didn’t spark with magic, but Zelda knew thanks to Link that there _were_ magic imbued clothes amongst what she’d been given.

She held a pair of sirwal in her hands, from the feel of it they had to be quite a few layers of fabric, yet the legs still had a bit of transparency to them; something that would have been impossible with Hylian fabrics. Without bothering to fold them back up she let them fall back into the chest.

Her heart raced strangely the longer she looked at them, as if they were more than just clothes.

In a way she knew they were. They were the promise that her life had irrevocably changed, though she didn’t know yet if for good or ill.

She couldn’t go back and change the past five years, even if she wanted to. All she could do was hope and do her best to make sure the change was for good.

-

Reaching out, Link ran a soothing hand along Epona’s neck as they came to a stop. Next to him, Zelda’s own horse Seba stopped as well, tossing her head. Zelda gave a sigh as they both stared out across the placid surface of Lake Hylia. Behind them the small convoy following them began to break apart for the evening.

“That’s where we’re going,” Zelda pointed to the left shore, where bridges connected a series of islands and peninsulas. She sounded almost like she was talking to herself, and not telling Link. He found he didn’t mind, even though he knew full well where they were headed. Her finger swung to the far right of the giant lake—Link wondered what size a body of water had to be before you could start calling it a sea or an ocean. “The Ancient Hylia temple is on the other shore.” She gave a little sigh. “I almost wish we could stop there, it was one of the last places I went with my mother before she died.”

Link reached out and squeezed her arm in comfort. He didn’t try to suggest they ride off that way, if his own mental calculations were right, it would be a nearly three day ride to the other side of the lake, and there wasn’t a way indicated on the map to get from the Hylia temple to the Gerudo Bridge, not without retracting the way they’d come. He doubted everyone involved would be happy to take an extra week of travel, just to get there and back.

A larger sigh escaped Zelda. “I’m wool gathering.” She turned Seba with her knees like Link had taught her years ago, nudging her towards the rapidly forming camp.  
  
Link caught up easily. “ _I miss my mom too, at weird times.”_ Maybe if he’d known his father he would miss him too. “ _It’s a big change in your life, too, you’re allowed to be sad about it.”_

“You’re right,” Zelda replied with a wan smile. “It’s been five years, but it feels almost too quick too.” They both dismounted easily, a page rushing over to take their horses and lead them to the makeshift pen. “And I’m not exactly _sad_ , part of me is even excited, I just...don’t know.”

 _“We could sneak away tonight. I know all the good spots in the Lost Woods where no one’ll ever find us.”_ He knew she wouldn’t accept, but he also wasn’t offering it to be serious.

As he’d hoped, it got a laugh out of her. “No, thank you though, I’m fairly certain I would indeed get lost. And I guess you’d know if the stories are true or not, but I would rather not end up one of the undead.” She looked back the way they’d come, towards where the desert was. “Living is a much better option.”

The Triforce on Link’s hand pulsed warmly, and Link spared it a glower. Because it wasn’t being helpful in the _least_.

-

The Gerudo Bridge stretched before them, despite it being newer than the bridges that crossed the other provinces, it had been constructed in the same style. Though it was partly obscured from the mists coming off Lake Hylia’s waterfalls, the sound almost deafening.

Though she couldn’t see all of it, and couldn’t hear the guards that patrolled it; Zelda knew this was the safest bridge she would likely ever cross. The merchants who now traded across the desert helped to pay for the upkeep and guards so their own travels would be safer.

“My Lady.” Impa’s voice next to Zelda made her start, Seba reacting by trying to dance away.

She didn’t get far before Zelda calmed her down, returning her so she and Impa were side by side again. “This is where you leave me, isn’t it?” Thankfully she managed to keep the sorrowful note out of her voice. She’d known this day was coming, after all, and even if she was losing Impa, she still had Link, and Anure, Ikafu, Geitaifi, and even Demal and Riviko.

“It is,” Impa agreed calmly. Then much to Zelda’s surprise, she found herself being pulled into a hug by the older woman. “I may not be able to follow you, Zelda, but know that I would still do your will here in Hyrule, if you wish it. And when you are crowned Queen, I will welcome you back with open arms.”

Zelda blinked back tears as Impa pulled away. “I...I would like that Impa, you’re important to me, you always have been.” Though Zelda was certain nothing much would change in the next two years, it would still be good to have _news_ of everything. Most days it seemed the court of Hyrule was fueled by gossip, and to be out of the loop could spell disaster for most.

On Zelda’s other side Ikafu came to a halt. “Princess, we should cross soon, it’s still an hour's travel to Merchant’s Town after the bridge.”

“Yes,” she answered. Though her nod was absent at best. “You can start crossing, I’ll catch up in a moment.”

Ikafu kicked her horse into a canter, the others following her.

Zelda found herself bridging the gap between herself and Impa again. “I’ll miss you,” she muttered into Impa’s gambison. “Thank you, for everything.”

She felt Impa’s lips press against her hair. “I will miss you too, Zelda. And I want you to remember something: the Goddesses blessed you, and set a path before you, but...you have something they have never had. A choice. _You_ get to choose what you do with what is given to you, how you walk the path. Remember that.”

“I will,” Zelda promised with a sniffle. Finally she made herself pull away, Seba happily jumping into a canter when she gave the mare a nudge. As she began to catch up with the others she turned in the saddle, to see Impa, and the rest of her Hylian retinue beginning to turn around to head back to the castle. Zelda made herself turn around too.

Crossing the bridge was quick, having been expected, none of the guards tried to stop them. And as Ikafu had said, it was another hour’s ride through steep canyons before they reached Merchant’s Town. Despite it being spring, it felt like high summer, and Zelda knew the temperature would only get warmer the further into the desert they went.

Despite the heat, and the sun that seemed to beat down, there were many Hylians bustling about, Goron and Rito too—and a trio of very dry looking Zora, quickly ducking into one of the houses. Zelda assumed if it weren’t midday she’d be seeing Gerudo as well.

The six of them drew stares, but none of the merchants brave enough to keep their stalls open called out to them. Anure led the way as they hurried through the streets, they reached a house with a bright red door, one that opened quickly after they’d stabled their horses.

Inside was blessedly cool, Zelda, and Link too, gave a little sigh of relief. A Gerudo _voe_ in orange smiled at them as she gave a little bow. “Welcome to my home, it is a blessing to have you.” Zelda understood her, but it took her mind a moment to realize the woman had spoken in Sa’suresh. Absently, Zelda wondered how long she’d go before she heard Hylian again.

Anure looked like she would’ve rolled her eyes if Geitaifi hadn’t stepped on her foot first. “It is always good to see family again,” she scooped the younger woman into a hug. “We’ll be staying a few days, which is longer than we agreed, but I hope that will not be too much trouble.”

“A few days?” Zelda asked, shocked. She’d thought they’d want to get across the desert as soon as possible.

Ikafu gave a nod. “Your moon-time begins soon, yes?”

Zelda fought back a blush, not that she was embarrassed by such things, but talking about it in front of _men_ was different. “...yes,” she finally admitted. Tomorrow at the latest, she knew, thankful that her cycle was regular.

“Were we a bigger convoy,” Geitaifi explained. “We could leave tomorrow, no problem. But with only the six of us, that much blood will draw more unwelcome attention than we can deal with.”

Even Demal nodded at her words. _“Greater Raizadu_ , _at the least,_ ” he signed. Almost as one, all of the Gerudo raised a palm towards the ceiling, as if to ward off evil.

Zelda and Link shared a look, which was mildly ruined by Link snorting. “What?” She found herself hissing as they followed Geitaifi deeper into the house.

“ _Yesterday I almost suggested we go to the Hylia temple you mentioned, but realized it’d take too long to get there and back. Clearly I should’ve if we’re gonna be_ here _for a few days.”_

Rolling her eyes, Zelda gave him a shove. “Sush.”

-

Thankfully, the next few days passed quickly for Link; in a way the break was nice, though she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly get used to the heat. Then before she knew it, they were back up their horses again and, well covered against the sun, they began to ride out into the desert itself.

They took a few hours break in the middle of the day, to escape the worst of the heat, but otherwise rode straight on, even continuing on after the sun began to set. Only once it began to grow truly dark, and chilly, did Anure call for them to stop.

Not even Zelda protested being pulled in to help unpack tents and cooking supplies. Though she shared a look of confusion with Link when Demal pulled out thin ropes with dangling silver bells that chimed sweetly as he began laying the rope around the camp. Link shrugged, something to ask about when they’d gotten settled in.

Geitaifi pulled her into helping with the cooking, which let her somewhat observe what Demal was doing as he walked around, seemingly aimlessly, until the camp, and the horses, were surrounded in a tangle of rope and bells. A breeze picked up, and they filled the air with a gentle sort of music.

“What are they for, Demal?” Zelda asked as they settled around the campfire.

He set his bowl down next to him. “ _Protection, spirit maze to ward off beasts and Raizadu_.”

 _“Cold voices?”_ Link managed to ask before Zelda could—likely because she was eating, but Link still counted it—they’d mentioned those a few days ago, but Link hadn’t thought to ask about it then.

“Those who would lure you away to become lost in the desert, they often imitate the voices of loved ones. The bells ward off the weaker ones, and any stronger to resist the sound will get caught up in the rope maze. It also has the added bonus of catching anyone who might sleepwalk,” Ikafu answered with a smile. Ah, some weird desert-Kokiri then, possibly.

Zelda made a thoughtful noise. “I’d love to help you next time, Demal. I didn’t realize ghosts and poes could be warded off like that.” She stared at the back of her hand for a moment, and Link bumped shoulders with her to get her to stop thinking about her own would-be Triforce piece.

Demal nodded in agreement. “ _You’ve got quicker fingers than Link anyways.”_

As the other Gerudo sniggered, Link stuck her pinky up. Demal did the same against the rim of his bowl as he ate.

-

As the days passed, Zelda knew that the mountains in the distance, their destination, were getting closer. But the seeming unendingness of the sand dunes made her feel as if they were going nowhere. Yet she didn’t complain, not even when she got sunburn across her cheeks. At least that night Ikafu and Geitaifi let her help Demal lay out the spirit maze before they fussed over her.

Which were fascinating to learn about. Each tribe apparently having their own designs, sometimes fragmenting even more into each _family_. And now she understood Ghan’s comment about blessing bells—Demal told her that the Sage could bless bells too, but that she was often too busy to do so, especially with no King to help her until now.

Perhaps what had been more worrying to learn was that spirit mazes didn’t have to be physical.

 _“If you have enough willpower and magic, you can put them in people too.”_ He’d told her almost nonchalantly as she’d laid out a string.

Zelda’s heart had stuttered and the bells had jangled as she demanded to know more.

It...had not been comforting to know. That a strong enough Gerudo could trap someone’s mind in their body, could possibly even turn that mind to their own use, and no one might ever know. They taught it anyways, because to break it you had to know how to do it in the first place.

She always felt so small, when she realized she knew so little.

Occasionally they came across an oasis, filling up their waterskins and leaving little offerings at the shrines under the date palms. Zelda found herself praying at each one, though she found herself wondering if Hylia could even hear her in the desert. She felt bad every time the thought crept up on her, of _course_ Hylia could hear her. Just because the Gerudo didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t mean she ceased to exist.

Zelda also perhaps lost track of the days, with them all being the same it was understandable. They had to be arriving soon though, Zelda assured herself. The mountains were getting closer.

Late one morning, something different finally _did_ happen. In the distance, a shape appeared, one that got larger and larger the closer they got to it. Both she and Link letting out sounds of surprise as they realized there was a giant _statue_ carved out of a mesa. The closer they got, the more Zelda could make out that it was of a woman, sitting tailor fashion.

The Gerudo let out cries of delight, kicking their horses into a gallop, Zelda and Link not far behind. As they came into the shadow of the statue, Zelda realized where they were: the Desert Colossus, the Goddess of the Sands herself.

Zelda found the dark archway that was the Temple’s opening, beckoned, promising relief from the heat. She resisted the urge, however; knowing that entry into the Temple was restricted. Though she was also certain she could make an argument that she would be one of the few allowed inside. 

Not that it mattered, for the Gerudo only stopped briefly to give a few prayers. Zelda found herself joining in, Din had never truly called to Zelda, but there was no harm in giving her the respect she deserved. Or giving her thanks for a safe crossing. Then they rode on, though not far, to Zelda’s surprise. For a short distance away there was another oasis. An oasis with _fairies_.

Despite her efforts to hold them back, a giggle escaped Zelda as she watched the fairies swarm Link. Who made a face and tried to carefully bat them away.

“Princess.” With a brief start, Zelda looked down to see Geitaifi looking up at her expectantly, a bag and a now familiar case in her hands.

“We’re that close?” Zelda found herself asking as she dismounted. Anure took Seba’s reins, before going to Link and nudging them away to give Zelda privacy.

Geitaifi managed to free a hand, pointing at a thin, dark, object in the distance. “That’s the pump, which lies close to the King’s home. Riding, it’s only an hour away.”

Heart pounding, Zelda nodded. Her fingers felt like lead as she began to undress, Geitaifi stepping in quickly to help. The sun felt strangely nice on her naked body, but she didn’t linger, stepping quickly into the waters of the oasis. She accepted the washcloth and soap Geitaifi handed her, the air filling with the scents of lemon and lavender as she washed off weeks of travel.

As she did, Geitaifi carefully packed away Zelda’s Hylian traveling clothes, and laid out fresh Gerudo ones. 

Again, Zelda found herself wishing to linger, but she made herself step out of the waters. Geitaifi quickly dried her off before letting Zelda dress. The sirwal were easy enough to put on, though Zelda had to get a little help with the choli, the jewelry case finally opened so the armbands could be used to hold up her detached sleeves.

Zelda didn’t argue as Geitaifi made her sit on a camp stool, the woman beginning to hum as she did Zelda’s hair, brushing it before beginning to braid it with oiled fingers—filling the air again with lemon and lavender. “What’s it like?” Zelda found herself asking as she sat as still as possible.

“There are many ‘its’ that question could cover,” Geitaifi teased lightly. Zelda found herself wishing for a mirror so she could _see_ what Geitaifi was doing with each brief tug. “Which in specific do you wish to know about?”

Zelda managed a shrug without moving her head. “Living in the desert specifically, I guess.” She knew bits and pieces from all her various lessons, but had never been given a complete picture, as it were.

“It is hard,” Geitaifi answered slowly. “Even in the King’s home, with the aquifer the Goddess led us to centuries ago, things are not always easy. But when she gave us this land as our _Gintu_ the Goddess did not promise things would be sweet and easy.” She finally seemed to finish whatever she was doing with the hair on Zelda’s crown, and began bringing it all together into a braid of some sort. “But we are happy, more often than not, and know that together much can be endured.”

Zelda didn’t doubt she would be able to endure it too, though from the perspective of her life so far, it did seem almost impossible. “If you hand me the case, Geitaifi, I can put the bracelets and earrings on.” Her fingers itched to do something.

“Hold,” Geitaifi said as she moved one of Zelda’s hands into her hair. Zelda held it tightly, and a few seconds later the case was in her lap. “You could put some of these on her ankles too,” Geitaifi commented, pointing at the bangles.

A sound of agreement left Zelda as she relinquished her hair back to the older woman. Moving carefully she began to put them on, the metal and stone feeling cool against her skin. Soon all that remained in the case were the necklace, circlet, hairpins and the ear tips—all of which would be easier to put on once her hair was done. It was the first time she’d worn the whole set, and it felt a little strange.

“Pins, please,” Geitaifi’s voice broke through Zelda’s musings. She offered them up to the other woman, her braided hair being pulled up and twisted in some manner. The weight settled easily however, when she felt the pins slide into place. “Circlet.” Zelda was more careful handing this one to her, afraid the chain might break if she moved too quickly. The blue topaz was a noticeable lump of cool against her forehead. “Now makeup, close your eyes please.”

Closing them, Zelda let Geitaifi move her head whichever way she wished, the thin brushes tickling her face as the paint was applied. “Done,” the woman declared a few minutes later. “You can put on the necklace yourself, right?”

Zelda nodded. It wasn’t too difficult to make sure it lay correctly, and the ear tips slid on easily from use.

“Go have a look,” Geitaifi nudged her towards the oasis while she reached into her bag.

Heartbeat racing again, Zelda went to the water’s edge, careful of her new slippers, and peered into the water.

Zelda recognized herself, but it wasn’t the her she was used to seeing every morning in the mirror. The black of her clothes made her appear all the more pale, the jewelry as pale, and glittering. The metal of the circlet vanished within Zelda’s slightly darker hair, making the gemstones appear to be floating atop the complicated braiding. Geitaifi had used the same pale blue with the makeup, but she’d applied copper as well; which made her indigo eyes more vibrant, and her lips strange and inviting.

“Here.” Geitaifi held out what was clearly a cloak and…

“I thought veils had gone out of fashion?” Zelda asked carefully as she took it.

A nod. “Yes, but it will help keep all my hard work safe from the elements.” She helped Zelda put it on. “It also adds an air of mystery, yes?” Her smile was impish as she wrapped the cloak around Zelda tightly. “A delightful puzzle for our King.”

Zelda found herself grateful for the veil, if only because it hid her blush.

They rejoined the others, and she drew up a little short at realizing she wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Link had shed their own Hylian clothes for Gerudo ones too. Though in their case they were the white of the Gerudo Royal Guard, though Zelda had to stare for a moment before realizing there was black stitching at the hems of their sirwal and kurta—true black even, and not the dark blue the Gerudo also called black. 

Someone had convinced them to wear their hair up in the Gerudo high tail—and even convinced them to wear an emerald carbonch in it—which showed off the fact that the underpart of their hair had been shaved away. Link had explained it helped them when they were a boy, and she’d seen it first hand many times, but that also didn’t stop it from being strange. Their bracers gleamed in the light as they teased her. _“Mysterious_.”

She blushed again and rolled her eyes, sticking her pinky up at him. Link gave the dry wheezing sound that was their laugh as Ikafu helped her mount Seba.

They continued to ride again, and Zelda found herself grateful for the covering Geitaifi had put her in, none of the sand flying up abrading her skin at all. Though it was getting on towards the hotter part of the day, Zelda knew they wouldn’t stop this time, not when they were so close to the end.

Her heart pounded in time with Seba’s galloping hooves as dunes began to give way to swaths of hard packed earth, the mountains rising up impossibly high into the sky above.

And there was the palisade of Ghan’s home, _her_ home. She began to see people the closer they got, half afraid her heart would break her ribs as she found Ghan’s tall form among those waiting at the gate. They began to slow and Zelda nearly kicked Seba back into a gallop, the twisting in her belly insisting she keep riding all the way to the mountains and beyond. Her nerves refusing the fact that her life would never be the same.

It was too late to change that fact though, her life had never been the same since she first set foot in the desert, since her sixteenth birthday, since her father had agreed to the marriage suite in the first place. The idea that sex might be more life changing than any of _those_ things was a bit absurd.

She dismounted on her own, half-forcing her body to move with the grace a princess should have as she stepped towards Ghan.

He was in royal black as she was, sirwal and a drape of fabric that left half his chest bare. He perhaps was wearing even more jewelry than she was: rings and armbands, an almost gorget like necklace that appeared to be made of a single sheet of gold engraved with various designs, gemstones glittered in his hair and ears, and he still had the same heavy ring at the end of his long braid as she remembered—bisected by the feather he’d stolen from her—though he seemed to have discarded the nose stud. All of it seemed dwarfed by his crown.

A curtsy when she had only a cloak instead of skirts was a strange experience, but she did it anyways. “King Ghananorv, you honor me with your personal welcome.” He did, even, for she hadn’t expected it. One usually had to go to the King, he did not come to _you_.

“You may rise, Princess Zelda,” there was warmth in his voice as he spoke. When she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, she found his copper eyes sparkling. “I welcome you gladly into my home, and hope that you will embrace the Home as your own.” There was a slight difference to his Sa’suresh than she was used to hearing, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. He offered his arm, and she found herself biting back a smile at the Hylian gesture. “My _Agarin_ waits for us at the temple.”

Despite herself she turned her head slightly to look at Link, who held both Epona and Seba’s reins. They arched an eyebrow in question but she shook her head. Returning her attention to Ghan she took his arm, cool metal and warm skin making her own break out in gooseflesh. “Lead on, my King.” Though she’d written that title many times in Sa’suresh, it felt strange to say it in that tongue for the first time.

Gerudo, and to Zelda’s surprise a fair amount of Rito, watched them from the shelter of brightly painted houses as they walked down the tiled streets. “ _Agarin?”_ Zelda found herself asking quietly as they walked towards the large structure closer to the center of the town—though she was certain no Hylian would call it such. She would have thought after five years there would be no more Sa’suresh for her to learn.

“My earthly mother,” he said in careful Hylian. “Perhaps I was remiss in not sending you a way of learning Sa’hvaut,” he continued in Sa’Suresh. “It is the sacred language for Kings and worship, Geitaifi, Riviko, and Demal would not have been able to teach you, save perhaps through demonstrating prayer. Nabooru could have taught it, but her work likely did not allow it.”

“I see,” Zelda said. “Well, it’s as you told me long ago, there is always more to be learned.”

A lightning smile from Ghan. “A good reminder, my Princess.” For a moment his other hand settled atop hers, thumb brushing against her knuckles, then it was gone.

“Is there then some title for you beyond _Neseu_? In this Sa’hvaut?” She asked, curious to know.

“No,” he answered as they came into the shadow of the Temple. The edifice was more plain than she was used to in Temples, but certainly in keeping with the Gerudo style. “Though you would use _fa_ now, instead of _atu_.”

“ _Fa’Neseu_ ,” she tried as they climbed the steps.

She chanced to look up, and saw his pupils dilate as he looked down at her. “Yes,” he rumbled. “It is _very_ tempting, my consort,” she started at the change in title. “To drag you off into a tucked away corner, and discover what secrets lay beneath this cloak and veil.” They stopped in front of the Temple doors, and his hand reached to tilt her chin up, though it didn’t do much to bridge the height between them.

“Much you have seen, _my King_ ,” she answered with a boldness that surprised her. “And more that you have desired to see.”

“You are not making this easier for me,” his voice deepened even more.

She felt the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiled broadly in strange delight. “I am certain there are many things between us that will not be...easy, for us, but that will be half the fun, yes?” She danced away from him as he tried to step closer, his hand grasping hers tightly before she could truly escape. “Now, I believe you said your _mother_ waits for us? I do not wish to make a poor first impression.”

A wordless growl left him as he tugged her back to his side. “I see this is one thing _you_ do not wish to make easy.”

“I am certain I don’t know what you speak of, my King,” she replied airly.

He gave a grunt after a few agonizing seconds of silence. Finally leading her into the Temple, the coolness a relief after the heat outside.

While the outside may have been plain, the inside was richly decorated. The centerpiece being a statue in the same style as the Colossus they’d passed, Din, Goddess of the Sands, seated, palms resting on knees. She was draped in rich red and golden fabrics, roses and pomegranate blossoms too, to Zelda’s surprise.

In smaller alcoves to the side she saw statues to Nayru and Farore, well tended, but clearly secondary. That there were none of Hylia was something Zelda had expected, but was still a strange shock to her.

There were no other people in the Temple, save them, and a woman in white and gold seated in prayer before Din’s statue.

Ghan drew them to a halt a few steps behind her, and they waited in respectful silence. Soon enough the woman stood and turned, revealing a face only just beginning to gain wrinkles, though they proved to be the kind sort, for they deepened when she smiled.

“Mother, this is Zelda, my chosen consort. Zelda, this is Sobik, mother and our Sage.”

The woman stepped towards them, taking Zelda’s hands into her own and giving them a squeeze. “Welcome, Zelda, it is good to finally meet you.”

“And you as well, Sage Sobik.”

-

Link found themselves watching Zelda and the King move deeper into town, that strange itching _pull_ lessening the further the King got—Link liked it even less the second time.

Anure bumped her shoulder with theirs. “Come, let us stable the horses.”

They started walking down the same main street Zelda had, though turned off it quickly. Passing through what was likely the market, though at the moment it was empty of people and goods. They were a few steps from the market when there was a childish cry of delight, a reedy child of seven or so rushing out a door towards them. Their green form crashing into Demal. “You’re home!”

Demal scoop the child up into a tight hug, burying his face in the child’s red hair.

A trill of fond annoyance came from the same door, and a few seconds later a Rito with brightly colored green feathers stepped out. “Cende, leave your parent alone.” They scooped the child out of Demal’s arms, swinging them around—much to the child’s delight—until they were on the Rito’s back.

“ _Azira_ ,” despite Demal’s chiding fingers, there was a fond smile on his face.

Ikafu snatched up the reins of Demal’s horse. “Go be with your family,” she told him. “We’ll look after your horse.”

Demal gave a grateful nod, following the child and Rito into the house. 

Link found themselves staring at the door for a long moment, until Epona nearly bowled them over, her brown eyes chiding in their own right. Link clicked their tongue soothingly as they began to walk again, knowing Epona wanted to get out of the sun, and probably wanted oats for all the trouble she’d been put through recently as well.

When they reached the stables they were greeted by more children in green, though they were older than Demal’s child had been. They stared openly at Link until Geitaifi demanded they start looking after the horses instead of being rude—Anure snickered. Link was certain it wouldn’t be the first time they were stared at here.

One child was braver than the rest, stepping up to take Seba and Epona’s reins. “ _Give them both good rub downs,”_ Link instructed, a little glad Ikafu immediately began to translate. “ _And oats, if you have them.”_

“Yes, sir,” the child replied in halting Hylian.

“ _Vuei,”_ Anure corrected, if perhaps a little sharply. It still surprised Link. She bent down and kissed Geitaifi on the head. “Go home, and I shall see you this evening.”

Geitaifi rolled her eyes fondly. “Yes, darling.” She squeezed Link’s shoulder as she passed. “Good luck.”

Link smiled in reply, following Ikafu and Anure as they began walking out of the stables. 

“You will train every morning with the rest of the Guard,” Anure began instructing as they walked towards what had to be the palace. It hardly looked like it would stand up to any sort of attack, but Link knew it wasn’t supposed to. They’d perhaps grown too used to the castle, which while half-decorative in its own right, was still based off older designs meant for war. “And you will sit with us at meals. Being King’s chosen,” her eyes flicked to the embroidery on Link’s clothes, perhaps in mild distaste. “Means that you will be first called if the King travels, or serve to watch him during Petitions.”

“It will be a lot of standing around and looking menacingly pretty,” Ikafu chimed in with a grin. “Which we know you do quite well already, Link, so you’ll do just fine.”

They fought back a blush, while Anure rolled her eyes. “Once you’re settled in, one of us will take you to the smith for weapons.”

The closer they got to the palace, the more _vai_ in white Link noticed, Many of them calling out happy greetings to both Anure and Ikafu, and, as Link had guessed, staring openly at _them_. They would quickly look away however, having more discipline than their children.

Stepping through an open archway, Link let out a surprised gasp. The whole of them stopped for a moment as they stared at the lush garden inside. Date palms and pomegranate trees heavy with fruit, provided ample shade from the heat, while underneath them grew a multitude of flowers—their names escaped Link, but they knew Zelda would likely be able to name them all. The whole of it was certainly incongruous with the desert they were in, and Link would have suspected magic; except they couldn’t sense _any._

“Link,” Ikafu’s voice started them out of their daze. When they looked, they were surprised to see Anure had left. “She got impatient,” Ikafu answered with a wry smile. “Come, I’ll show you to the room the King gave you.”

Catching up with ease, Link frowned. “ _Shouldn’t I be in the barracks with the rest of the Guard?”_ They hadn’t exactly expected special treatment.

Ikafu inclined her head in agreement. “Usually, yes, but our King understands that you are here to watch over the Princess, which he approves of, and so decided to give you a room close to hers. Do not worry about displacing anyone, there’s more than enough rooms in the palace, most of them still uninhabited.”

That did make Link feel a little better as they walked through various hallways, some open, some closed, with guards at nearly every intersection. Link soon realized Ikafu’s comment about there being enough rooms hadn’t been as much of an exaggeration as they’d thought.

“Here we are.” The door was nearly invisible, or perhaps it was only so because the next set of doors was ornate, but it opened with barely a whisper when Ikafu pressed against it.

The room inside was perhaps smaller than the one Link had had at the castle, but it was better appointed, and felt spacious despite the size.

“The rooms next door are the Princess’, would you like to look them over?”

Link nodded in agreement, following her through the ornate doors. The rooms were only a little less opulent than the doors themselves, but as Link looked around they knew Zelda would like them. Another sound of surprise left Link as they spotted another familiar looking Gerudo.

Riviko turned and gave a broad smile. “Link.” Link didn’t fight them pulling them into a hug. “It is good to see you again. Where is the Princess?”

“ _With the King_ ,” Link answered as they pulled away. 

“They went to the Temple to meet with the Sage, I believe.” Ikafu explained.

A nod from Riviko. “Then I hope she will be here soon. I did my best to make this a place she would love, thankfully Geitaifi has sent me many letters.” They smiled. “It will be good to catch up with you sometime, though I suppose we’ve got years to do that now.”

Link gave their own nod. Footsteps at the end of the hall made their ears twitch, followed soon by voices. “ _That’s them now_.”

They were proven right a few seconds later, when Zelda, still bundled up—which Link found an odd relief—and the King stepped through the doors. The twisting itch returned and Link did their best not to make a face. “Your rooms.”

“My rooms?” That Zelda questioned it did perhaps surprise Link. “As your consort I thought we would have been sharing rooms, fa _King.”_ Link was very grateful they weren’t the object of that edge to Zelda’s voice.

The King narrowed his eyes at the rest of them. “Leave.” As much as Link wanted to argue that, they knew they couldn’t. So instead they made it so they were the last out of the room, taking care not to close the door all the way before standing guard off to the side.

Riviko gave them a fleeting smile. “Until later.” 

They nodded absently, as Riviko, and Ikafu to Link’s surprise, began to leave, most of their focus on listening.

“I had thought you would be more comfortable with having your own space, Zelda.” The King’s voice wasn’t _completely_ placating, and it was a reasonable assumption considering it was the Hylian way.

Zelda sighed. “I _do_ appreciate it, but it is...not what I was expecting. I am also fairly certain there is something else you are keeping from me,” her tone grew sharp again. “I do not want our relationship to start with secrets, Ghan.” Link gave a start, it wasn’t the fact that the King had a _name_ —though perhaps it had slipped Link’s mind a little, it wasn’t as if _they_ were ever going to call him anything else than ‘King’—it was that Zelda seemed utterly happy to use a _nickname_.

“Zelda,” the King sighed as well. “You are right, there should be no secrets. Though it is perhaps a wound to my pride to admit the truth.”

“No one his here to hear it but I, _fa_ King.” Link flinched a little at Zelda’s words, knowing that she was lying, however unintentionally. “And I am not one to speak idly.”

There was a thump, likely someone sitting down, then the King sighed again. “You are right. Come, sit with me.” A sound that might have been him patting a cushion, a brief rustle of fabric, then silence for a long moment. “I...I have been having nightmares these past few years. They are not frequent, but when they do occur, I am told I thrash about quite forcefully.” More rustling fabric. Link gave in and inched a little closer, half certain the door wasn’t open enough that they could peek in, but hopeful all the same. “I did not wish to harm you, so, then your own rooms to sleep in.”

There _was_ a crack now in the doors, though Link didn’t see much, only half of the King’s shoulder, and the barest sliver of Zelda sitting next to him. Her hand appeared, dropping a diaphanous piece of fabric—her veil, Link realized.

“Thank you, Ghan, for telling me. Though I still wish to try and share a night with you, perhaps I have some way to soothe you that none of your people have thought of.”

One of the King’s bejeweled hands rose up, likely to cup Zelda’s cheek. “Then I will let you, though I think it foolish.” A sound of surprise left Zelda as the King did _something_. “Such beauty that sits upon my lap. Might I have a taste? I fear I have forgotten the sweetness of your lips.”

Instead of speaking, Zelda clearly chose to pull the King’s head down, the sounds of kissing filling the air. Link felt their cheeks blaze, and shifted with a new discomfort. Slowly edging back to their previous position.

-

Dinner was a communal affair, just as Zelda was used to. Although perhaps the execution was far different: for it wasn’t just the nobles from the palace that ate together, but the whole _town_.

She and Ghan were served first, but then it was the children, who seemed to fall upon their food like cuccos on bugs, a thought that made her smile as she slowly ate her own food. Mainly from the fact that if she ate too quickly the heat of the spices became unbearable; although she’d also eaten her fill earlier when she, Link, and Riviko had sat down for mint tea.

Zelda had perhaps felt a little bad for ignoring the person she’d once called _vuenvi_ when she’d first seen them, but in Zelda’s defense she had been annoyed with Ghan over his assumption she would want her own rooms instead of _asking_. His explanation had eased her annoyance, but it still did sting a little.

Thoughtfully she chewed on her bite of lamb in some sort of green sauce that made her want to sigh in delight. Nightmares...she’d had them too, though they’d faded over time, and was certain his were not from the same source as her own had been. Perhaps it was presumptuous of her to think she might have a solution that the long, and likely vast, knowledge of the Gerudo did not. Yet she wouldn’t know until she _tried_.

“Shall we go?” Ghan’s voice was warm in her ear and she gave a little start of surprise.

“ _Now_?” Despite her wanting it, her voice was a nervous squeak and she was certain everyone else could hear the sudden pounding of her heart. And to think only a few hours ago she’d eagerly wanted to be with him while they’d been kissing, only for him to be the one who wanted to stop.

He inclined his head. “If you wish, if not, we can remain here too. Or whatever you’d like.”

She poked him in the shoulder, drawing a chuckle out of him. “Once again, my King, you put a hard decision in front of me.”

He laughed, drawing the eyes of those around them, and she blushed as she realized what she’d just said. Half-wishing she was still wearing her veil. The Gerudo around them let out a few good natured laughs, and one even called out advice that had Zelda blushing even more.

“They mean well,” Ghan murmured against her hair.

Zelda turned her own head, mostly to hide her face, and kissed his shoulder. “I know. I think...I would like to leave.”

He stood with a grace he really shouldn’t have had, and offered her his hand. She found herself shivering as she stepped closer to him, the warmth of him sinking into her. Guards in white began to follow, but Ghan stopped once they’d left the dining hall. “You are dismissed, Link,” he commanded with ease.

Link gave her the same questioning look they’d given her a few hours ago, this time she nodded. “Go have dinner,” she added, feeling her own blush begin to return in full force. She was strangely grateful Ghan had thought of it, because while everyone might _know_ they were likely about to have sex, she’d rather not have her best friend possibly _overhear_.

Link gave a formal bow, then departed, while she and Ghan continued on.

By the time they reached Ghan’s rooms, not quite in the same hall as her own, but closer than she’d thought they’d be, she was a tense bundle of nerves, with only the barest whispers of excitement. When the doors closed behind them, she felt her nerves grow tenfold.

In an attempt to distract herself she looked around. This was only the sitting room, much like her own had, but it was more richly appointed. She felt their joined hands being lifted up, and blinked in surprise as she watched Ghan raised her hand up to kiss the palm of it. “Come.”

He began leading her towards a set of gilded doors, the metal embossed to show what were likely various events in Gerudo history, not that she had time to study them in-depth, for he pulled her past them and into the brightly lit bedroom.

All Zelda could focus on was the fact that the bed was _vast_ , Zelda certain she could lie in the center and not be able to reach any of the sides, and piled high with far more pillows than it needed to have. It was lower to the ground than a Hylian bed would be, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the sight of Ghan sitting on it. A glint in his eye suggested he knew what she was about, and a yelp left her as she found herself being tugged towards him, ending up in his lap once more.

She thought he was going to kiss her again, instead he cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing across her cheekbone in a soothing manner. “You’re nervous.” His other hand settled on her bare waist, but did nothing more than rest there.

“I am,” she agreed, seeing no reason to hide it. Especially after she’d chided him about such things earlier. “I’ve read books, and imagined things while I touched myself,”—his eyes flashed dark—“but I’ve never done _this_.” She gestured to the whole of the room. 

He bent down, until he could press his forehead against her own, copper eyes burning into her own indigo ones. “I promise you, nothing will happen tonight that _you_ do not ask for, or agree to.” He brushed their noses together, the tender gesture making her smile.

She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Ghan. Though right now I think I’m too nervous to even _think_ of anything to suggest.” Her smile turned wry.

“Kissing?” He murmured as he tilted her face up. “Touching?”

Feeling breathless, if still nervous, she nodded. Sighing when his lips settled against hers again.

It was easy after a while to forget there was anything else, nerves beginning to calm. The hand on her waist began to drift up and she let out a moan as she felt it settle on her breast. She found herself returning the favor, one hand burying itself into the fabric of his sash, while the other settled against his own—strange, she would have thought a man’s nipple would feel different from her own. 

“Yes,” Ghan murmured against her lips. “Touch me too, let us learn each other this time.”

Emboldened she pushed the sash off his shoulder, smoothing her hands up the warm skin and firm muscles of his torso and chest. She scraped her nails against his skin and delighted in his gasp, using the opportunity to steal her tongue into his mouth.

The hand on her own breast squeezed, before shifting so fingers could _pluck_ and she gave a soft cry at the tiniest flare of pain. “Your choli?” He panted now, breath warm against her own.

“Yes,” she panted back. Shimmying as his fingers undid knots and winding quickly.

When it fell away he drew back some, and she squirmed under the heat of his gaze as he stared at her breasts. Both his hands this time moved to cup them. Only to do so even more when he spoke. “Such perfect ripe fruits.” He bent his head down even more, his thin beard tickling her skin as he nuzzled the soft valley between her breasts. “Might I have a taste?”

“You...you may,” Zelda wished she could sound calm and collected. Her fingers tangled into his hair and she let out a whimper at the feel of his tongue against the side of her breast, drawing closer and closer until her whimper became another cry as it touched her nipple. “Ghan!” 

He sucked gently and she arched, enjoying the sensation but finding she wished it was _more_. “Ghan…” Her voice shook. He hummed against her breast, sending a jolt right through her. “In your letters…” They hadn’t _all_ been filthy since her sixteenth birthday, but a good many of them had been. “Do you...really want to...eat me?” She honestly didn’t know if there was a better way to say it; it was his own fault anyways, for saying it would be a feast for him.

“Mmmm.” He placed a soft kiss on her breast, beard tickling slightly, before resting his head on her shoulder—which _had_ to be uncomfortable for him, but he didn’t complain. “I do,” he answered. “But it can wait, we have years now to do whatever we wish. I can wait a few more days.”

“I…” Zelda pulled away from him. Fairly certain her knees knocked together as she stood, her fingers fumbling as she undid the knots holding her sirwal together and up. A shiver passed through her as they fell away, and she held her hands behind her back to keep herself from covering herself up again—the silky fabric of her sleeves tickled her skin, but she couldn’t be bothered to remove them. “I want it,” it even managed to sound like a declaration.

Ghan stared at her, and she felt her hips shift as she watched him lick his lips. “Lay on the bed,” his voice was rough.

It felt like she blinked and she was laying on the bed, Ghan above her. His large hands settled on her hips, the warmth of them almost comforting. His eyes met hers again. “Say no when you want me to stop.”

She nodded.

He pressed his lips against her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down her neck and breasts, his beard tickling her skin though she found she had no desire to laugh. On her belly he placed openmouthed kisses, tongue tracing abstract designs against her skin. By the time he reached her bellybutton she was panting and squirming all over again.

The hands on her hips shifted, and she squirmed for a whole different reason as he parted her legs. His thumbs petted her inner thighs in a soothing manner as he settled himself down. “Ghan?” Her voice trembled as she spoke after what felt like minutes of silence. All he was doing was _staring_ again, and she didn’t know what to _do_.

“Apologies,” he turned his head and pressed a kiss against her thigh. “I only wished to admire the treasure you’d given me. Such a feast should not be consumed, my Princess, but savored.”

“You flatter me,” she managed to pant out, grateful her flushed skin hid her embarrassment.

“The truth,” just barely she could see him grin. “But you are right, that it is equally rude to only admire such delicacies without tasting them.”

Before she could manage to even think of a tart reply, his tongue stroked up her slit, giving only a ghost of a touch to her clit. “Ghan!” She gasped. Without thought her hands flew out, grasping his hair and his crown. The fact that he hadn’t taken it off sent a strange jolt through her, sending her rocking against his firm hold. She grasped it tighter, uncaring that her palm would be branded with snake scales. “My King.”

Yes, _her_ king, crowned in glory and focused on _her_. She found her slit growing wetter at the heady thought.

“Such sweet nectar your flower gives,” he crooned against her mons. A strange, desperate sound escaped her when she felt his thumbs part her lips, opening her up further. “Such sweetly trembling petals.” He _kissed_ her and Zelda found herself losing track of _everything._

She thrashed as he sucked, and licked, and kissed, sounds she hadn’t known she could make slipping from her mouth as he consumed her—there was no better word for it. His own pleased sounds and purring rumbles adding another layer to the pleasure racing through her. “Ghan, Goddesses, _please_ ,” Princesses weren’t supposed to beg, but she couldn’t quite help herself.

His fingers tightened, and she suddenly didn’t care about bruises, her hips pressing against him as best they could as he began to focus on her clit. Her scream echoed through the room as she came, and while he let her clit alone he still lapped at her and she didn’t know if it was too much, or not enough.

The second orgasm was a complete and utter shock to Zelda. Her limp body seizing as she let out a whine.

 _Finally_ he pulled away, and Zelda was too exhausted to be anywhere near embarrassed at the sight of him, dripping and as filthy as anything in the erotic novels she’d read.

She watched through hooded eyes as he sat back on his heels and, perhaps a little unsuccessfully, tried to clean his face off. A breathy laugh escaped her as she tried to regain her strength, the grin he gave her in return was utterly self-satisfied and she found she couldn’t begrudge him it one bit.

“May I kiss you?” He asked as he settled against her side.

“You may,” she answered. She already knew her own taste—partly because he’d sounded so interested in it that she was curious to understand why—and wouldn’t mind tasting it on _him_. The kiss was softer than their earlier ones, and he did taste different, and she found herself wondering what _he_ might taste like. Pulling away from him she smiled. “That was wonderful, thank you.”

He let out a huff. “I’m not sure how to feel about accepting thanks for something _I_ enjoyed, but you’re welcome.”

“A Princess should always thank someone for a job well done,” she responded primly. His laughter warmed something in her chest and she could feel a smile tug at her own lips. Sitting up she pushed gently at his shoulder. “Now I believe I wish to see you in all your...hmmm, _glory_.”

Despite her words, when he rolled onto his back and began removing his own sirwal she looked away, finding she wanted it to be a surprise. When she felt him stop moving she straddled his torso, before finally letting herself look down. Zelda felt her eyes widen as she got her first good look at Ghan’s...scepter. She’d always known it was going to be _big_ , but…

“Zelda?” Ghan’s warm hands settled on her waist, and she knew if she didn’t say anything soon, he would turn her around and say it could wait. Ending everything for the night.

She didn’t _want_ to wait, however, as sweet as his consideration might be. She took a deep, bracing, breath. “Hylia’s tits.” Well, she hadn’t meant to say _that_.

Beneath her Ghan began to laugh again, the sound vibrating through her. Pursing her lips she reached out and pinched the skin of his inner thigh, his laughter cutting off with a yelp. “Blasphemy is no laughing matter.”

Those hands settled more firmly on her hips and a squeak escaped her as she felt him sit upright, his cock nestling against her folds, hard and nearly as hot as she felt. “You are right,” His breath was hot against her ear and she shivered, and again when he set his teeth against the shell under the ear tip she still wore.

“Shall I help you atone?” Before she could respond she felt his hands move to cup the underside of her thighs, and with ease he began to lift her up, her honey slicked thighs easing the way for his cock. She let out a breathless moan as he lifted her up enough that she could feel the head of him, even through his hood, against her clit. She expected him to move her, to make it easier for him to press _in_ , instead he began to lower her again. Looking down she saw the dark head of him peek out between her thighs, hood rolled back by his lowering and her thighs alone. Why that thought made her squirm even more she didn’t know.

Then she was sitting fully in his lap again, only for him to begin lifting her all over again. “Ghan!” Her hands craned back to grab at him, his hair again, and a shoulder, his skin dimpling under her nails. “What?”

“You have the silly idea that one must suffer to atone, yes?” She felt his lips press against the back of her head.

She _wanted_ to say something about how now was not the time for an argument over religion, but then she was at the top of his shaft again. That head teasing her lips and clit with the _idea_ of fullness before escaping from between her thighs again and she wailed in frustration. “Fuck me,” perhaps later she’d feel bad that she screeched it at him, but right now she just wanted _satisfaction_.

Ghan _purred_ and somehow she could feel it in her clit. “Such sweet demands you sing. I did promise to do as you asked.” He began lifting her again. “Yet I find myself wishing to paint you with my seed, lick you clean until I have gorged myself on milk and honey.”

Another wail left her because what was she supposed to _say_ to that. “S-stop,” it left her before she could _think_ , but that was part of the problem wasn’t it?

Seemingly in a flash she was off his lap and settled on the much safer territory of his knees. “Zelda?” One of his hands was on her face, thumb rubbing against her cheek again.

“Can’t…” She took a few deep breaths, her body pulsing with need. “Can’t _think_.” She screwed her eyes shut, trying to draw up every focusing technique she’d ever learned to gather her scattered mind. When she opened them again she might not have been _composed_ , but she felt like she could form sentences again. “I want to have sex with you.” Which felt almost _funny_ to say, considering everything.

“I am pleased to hear that, but clearly something’s bothering you.” He sounded concerned, and for a moment she leaned her face into his hand, grateful for the comfort.

Closing her eyes, because if she could pretend that this was just some lesson she was reciting then maybe she wouldn’t turn into a tomato again. “Sex is...oral, or vaginal, or anal.” Well, it seemed it didn’t do any good, because she could feel her cheeks flushing again. “What you said...that wasn’t sex.” She opened her eyes again, meeting his own and hoping he understood.

“Those are sex,” that he agreed was a relief. She found herself being lifted once more, his lips pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “But I think in _our_ relationship, we could call anything we wish _sex_ , so long as we both agree. I see sex as anything that can make pleasure regardless of what goes where.” He gave a little sigh. “Perhaps we should have talked about that more than teasing each other with words and imaginings.”

Zelda could only nod. “Then, can we...talk about it later? I…” She squirmed. “I want you _inside_ me.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then let out another sigh. “Have you had anything other than fingers inside you?” He looked away, as if _embarrassed_ to be asking such a question. “I am not _typical_ , and it might hurt if you are not prepared.”

“No,” she answered honestly, only a little less embarrassed. Her memory from two years ago was still strong, that urge to have wanted _more_ than his fingers. “I can take it,” it perhaps didn’t come out the declaration she wished.

“No,” he replied back. “You _think_ you can, but I’m not willing to risk it. We’ll take it slow, because I don’t want to hurt you.” She felt him stand, and still carrying her, began walking towards a door she hadn’t noticed before. On the other side was a large bath, the water that came out of the taps steaming slightly. He set her down with care, then reached for her hair. Her hair didn’t fall away, but she felt it loosen. “That’s mine,” thankfully it sounded playful. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him use one of her own hairpins to hold up most of his own hair.

“I’ll give it back,” he replied with a grin. “Get in the tub.”

She did, surprised he followed soon after. She would have thought he would get soaps or something for them. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because as he pulled her close he spoke again. “Just a soak, I think we both could do with some relaxing.” It seemed like a highly wasteful thing, considering they were in the desert, but she trusted he knew what they could spare better than she.

So instead she let herself ask another question. “What do you mean by _slow_?” Because she _did_ want him sooner, rather than later, perhaps a little uncaring of what pain might be involved. She could take it. It was just now that she _could_ have it, she didn’t want to wait any longer.

“I mean.” He gathered her hands in one of his own, and she let out a sound of shocked surprise, when he guided them to wrap around his cock. “That I won’t penetrate you with this, tonight. Perhaps not even in the next few weeks.”

“I don’t want to wait that long,” she told him simply. “I feel like I've waited too long already, I _want_ you.” She followed his pumping motions. Even if she was frustrated, she found herself enjoying the feel of him in her hands, the way his cock twitched and darkened.

As their hands slid up again, he showed her how to tease the underside of his crown, which made him grunt and pant. “I want you too,” he groaned. “But I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated. “Neither of us have _had_ sex.” She found herself pleased by his admission that in practice he likely knew as much as her. “I _know_ I won’t fit as untried as you are. You,” he groaned again as she rubbed his slit, fluid spurting out. “You can lick it,” which she was certain was not what he originally was going to say.

Not that she was going to _argue_. Mindful of her hair she dipped her head down, giving his head a lick, the fluid was salty and thin. She continued to lick, and she found herself smiling as she looked up at him through her lashes. Pleased to see his head thrown back and his hands gripping the edge of the tub tightly.

Emboldened, she lowered her head further, mouth stretching wide enough to ache as she took the head of him inside her mouth.

 _Perhaps,_ she found herself thinking, _perhaps he has a point_. She rubbed her tongue against the underside of his crown before pulling her head off, doing her best to ease the ache in her jaw. With a sigh, she nuzzled him, lapping up the spurt of precome that followed. “I’ll wait, for now. Though I reserve the right to change my mind later, and try to convince _you_.”

“So considerate,” he got out through gritted teeth.

She laughed in delight before she resumed stroking him, doing her best to catalog every twitch and groan. “I still want to taste you,” she told him seriously.

His head tilted down, molten copper eyes entrancing. “Then make me come.”

With a shudder she did her best. Touching and licking him as best she could. Until finally he shouted and she recoiled with a yelp as he began to pump out ropes of come. Letting him go she gathered some in her hands, watching him as he relaxed while she licked them clean. Not much different than the precome she’d tasted, though certainly thicker.

When her hands were clean she ducked her head down to lick off his chest. “Greedy,” he said with a breathless laugh.

“Always,” she agreed with a grin.

Ghan’s hand carefully cupped the back of her head. “We should probably undo some of this if you wish to sleep comfortably.”

Pulling away slightly she gave a nod, not interested in sleeping in any of her jewelry. She looked at him through her lashes. “Then I get to help you too,” she shot back. Certain he didn’t sleep with that ring in his hair. “I’ll help you first,” she said as she stood up, water sloshing as she climbed out of the tub. The air was cool against her skin and she shivered as she broke out in gooseflesh.

“You just want your hairpin back,” he returned. Though he did move against the edge of the tub, so she could unwind his hair and keep it dry. She moved closer at how much warmer he was.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. Before she removed the pin though her fingers fumbled at the leather strips that held the gorget together, managing to remove it without accidently dropping it. She didn’t dare to try and undo the braid itself, instead carefully removing his crown before working her way down to remove the jewels and metal clasps. “Would you like to know what my first thought about _you_ was, when we first met?”

He gave an answering hum, and when she looked up from her work, she smiled to see his eyes were closed.

“I realized that, back then, if you’d undone your hair, I could have wrapped myself in it completely. I guess I could still do it _now_ ,” she continued. “But it does seem quite silly as a whole.”

Another hum, this time in agreement. “Yes, I think I’d much prefer you to wear _other_ things of mine. Though it is good to know that should the worst befall us, you can still wear my hair,” he replied dryly.

She didn’t bother to hide her laugh. Holding the end of his hair up—the ring really _was_ heavy, she didn’t know how he could just carry it around like he did—so she could remove the feather, before tackling the problem of the ring itself.

Eventually she got it, and set it in the pile, a small king’s ransom in precious metals and jewels.

Ghan stood, and she squeaked at the sudden view of his ass. “You next, Princess.”

Instead of climbing back into the tub, she tucked her legs under her to sit on her heels. Shivering again, still not used to being so naked in front of anyone. She felt him settle in behind her, warm fingers against her neck making her jump a little. He didn’t say anything in response as he undid the clasp on her own necklace. Zelda found her following his hands as he took it off and laid it gently next to his own pile of jewelry.

His hands returned, beginning to work on her earrings and she squirmed. He paused. “Sensitive?” His voice was husky.

Blushing, she nodded. “Though most Hylians are,” she found herself explaining. For no reason she could discern.

A thoughtful hum left him as his hands resumed their work. “Would you like to know another secret from our first meeting? Since you were so kind to share one with me?”

“You don’t have to,” she found herself answering.

“But I wish to,” he replied firmly. “So, then. Our first meeting should not have been our first, but I wished to see the one my mothers had decided I was to be with. Kings do not marry, yet here my mother was discussing such things with the Mothers. So I snuck into the caravan when it left for Hyrule.”

Zelda blinked. “How?” She asked without meaning to. “You’re...um,” she blushed. “Hard to miss.”

Pleased laughter left him. “I can be quite sneaky when I wish, something I’m sure my mother regrets teaching me. I managed to remain hidden until we reached Hyrule proper, by then it was too late to turn back, so they had no choice but to let me accompany them. Though I was in quite a lot of trouble when we returned.”

A giggle escaped Zelda at the image that conjured. 

“Not quite that amusing at the time,” warmth filled Ghan’s voice. “But I do not regret my decision, even then.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” Zelda said.

His fingers massaged at her scalp, making her melt a little. “There. Shall we retire to bed?” He stepped away from her and reached into the tub to pull the plug. “Putting everything away can wait for morning.”

Nerves tangled inside Zelda once more, but she still rose to her feet as she nodded.

Sleep...was going to be an interesting experience.

-

Pain woke Zelda quickly.

Before her mind could completely figure out what was going on, her body acted. Rolling her off the bed and on to the cold stone floor. The barest sliver of moonlight crept in through the open balcony, so she muttered a light cantrip, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out when she raised her right hand to better illuminate the room.

Ghan thrashed on the bed, sweat dotting his brow. Her heart ached, but first, but first.

Lifting her left arm didn’t hurt, good. Carefully she felt along her right side, blinking back tears when she reached her ribs. She took as deep a breath as she dared, it hurt, but not as deeply as it should have if the lung had been pierced, or collapsed. He’d only cracked or fractured her ribs then, hopefully.

Refusing to look down, she instead watched him as she rested her hand atop her injury and began to hum. Magic flowed to the rhythm, but even as it sank in she knew she’d have to do this more than once to be fully healed.

Finishing the first round she tested the area, her ribs hurt less, and it no longer hurt to breath, thank Hylia. On the bed Ghan cried out, and she winced as a pillow exploded in his hands. No wonder he’d feared hurting her. It seemed to be worse though now, when she wasn’t in the bed…

Taking a deep breath she sang the tune softly this time. Yes, she realized, the music was affecting him too. The thrashing didn’t _stop_ but it did lessen. She would have thought music would have already been _tried_ , and it wasn’t as if the Song of Healing was _uncommon_. Or, had they not thought to try it because the song was meant for injuries, not nightmares?

She wouldn’t think he would be so prideful to not admit to an injury. Not for _years_.

Her skin was still tender as she finished the second song. Finally she made herself look down, wincing at the mottled bruise that covered a good portion of her torso. Ghan was going to hate himself in the morning, nevermind that she’d known the risk.

A third time, and she could feel her belly begin to grumble with hunger, exhaustion swamping over her. Gritting her teeth she pushed on, she didn’t think she could manage a fourth time, but she could at least ease the bruising. 

Knees shaking she finally finished, stomach twisting for a whole other reason as Ghan grew violence once more. Her mind didn’t want to work, and it was a struggle to try and recall any songs that the Gerudo might not know, that wouldn’t cost her more magic, _and_ might ease his nightmares.

When she finally did recall a song, she almost wanted to laugh. The old family lullaby left her easily and she watched Ghan, hoping it would work.

Relief rushed through her as she watched him calm, though as she got closer she could still see his eyes moving rapidly behind his lids. So it might calm the body, but it wasn’t stopping the nightmares.

Careful of her bruises, Zelda climbed back into the bed, settling his head in her lap, she stroked his hair as she hummed the lullaby over and over again. _Please, Hylia_ , _may his nightmares not last the night_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which this chapter could have also been titled "Characters fighting me tooth and nail over admitting attraction, and having sex."


	10. Part 1: Kindling, of Sorts

Ghan awoke to the moaning of the wind and hissing sand. Cracking his eyes open, he stared out towards the balcony, his usual view obscured. With a half-hearted groan he flicked his wrist and the partition rattled shut, closing the room off from the sandstorm.

The bed shifted and he turned his head the other way to see Zelda curled up against his side, fast asleep.

_Perfect, she won’t even have the chance to resist, let alone be able to escape a maze…_

Gritting his teeth he made himself turn away from her. He’d had nightmares then, that cruel voice inside him always managed to worm its way free after he’d had them. Even as he wrestled it back into it’s box, it didn’t let up. _You know you want to, she’ll be exactly what you want if you do, and no one will be the wiser. How satisfying will that be? Perhaps it might even fill…_

He didn’t let himself feel relief until he passed a whole minute in silence. Though he knew if he wasn’t careful it might win free again.

It was a different sort of struggle to look at Zelda again, lifting the sheet carefully to examine her as best he could. Wincing when he spotted a bruise—it looked old, but he knew full well it hadn’t been there when they’d gone to sleep—that disappeared beneath her. So he’d hurt her like he’d said he would, but she had been warned and decided it was worth the risk. Which didn’t do much to ease the guilt.

Inside him the voice was trying to speak again, but it was only sound, as easy to ignore as the storm outside. Harder to ignore was the emptiness inside him; so he’d been a fool to hope someone else might fill it, it seemed. But he’d grown used to it over the years, and it was bearable to an extent.

Watching Zelda as she slept didn’t ease any of the tension inside him, but it did calm him, after a fashion. Easy to focus on her, and not think about anything else. He wasn’t in a rush, after all, not with the storm raging.

“You will be better,” he reminded himself quietly. He wouldn’t dishonor the last words of the previous King, not if he could help it. They might have been broken in the same way, perhaps _all_ the Alunshay had been, but Ghan would take the knowledge the past had given him and _use it_ as best he could.

Zelda murmured again beside him, shifting restlessly. Reaching out he gently brushed a finger against the discoloration under her eye. She must have found some way to soothe him, if she’d risked climbing back into bed with him, how long has she done it for beforehand? “I thought I had taken you for my partner, not my nurse,” he sighed.

Her eyes fluttered open, still half-hazy with sleep. “Morning.” She gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Did you say something?”

“No,” a lie, but she didn’t need his guilt, not yet at least. “A good morning to you as well, would you like me to call up breakfast?” He was hungry too, but he’d grown used to waiting when need be. Though fasting likely did him no favors. 

“Shouldn’t we go to the Hall?” She sat upright, revealing her pretty breasts, and the rest of the bruising. She must have followed his gaze because her own eyes narrowed. “I’m _fine_ ,” she said firmly. “I agreed to it, and can handle some pain.” 

Ghan shook his head, then spoke to clarify. “We don’t need to go down, no one would be there anyways. Listen.” He wouldn’t say anything about hurting her, not until he could say something that wasn’t driven by guilt.

“Oh.” She cocked her head, the tips of her ears twitching. He gladly let himself be distracted by the thought of leaning down and nibbling on them. “You know, I might have _known_ sandstorms were real, but they never actually _seemed_ real.” Her cheeks pinkened. “If that makes sense.” She crossed her arms, bit her lip, then her blush raced down her throat.

A chuckle left him, and giving in he bent down and laid a kiss against her jaw. “It makes perfect sense. For a time it _seemed_ water could never gather in anything larger than an oasis, then Like Hylia proved me wrong.” He still didn’t quite believe it was a _lake_ , but he wouldn’t challenge Hylian naming conventions about it. His hand moved to rest on the uninjured side of her waist. “Would you like me to heal it for you?” He could feel traces of lingering magic, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know how bad the initial harm had been.

“Y-yes.” She sounded quite lovely when her breath hitched like that. “Also, breakfast would be good,” she said firmly. As if the presence of food might forstall anything else. Granted her enthusiasm last night would suggest she might be open to such things, but he was certain there would need to be quite a lot of _talking_ first, considering.

“Then I shall be right back.” He gave her a brief kiss before standing to leave the bedroom.

“Sh-shouldn’t you _dress?_ ” When he looked over his shoulder her indigo eyes were wide, and quite fixated on his torso.

A pleased laugh left him, Goddess she was a _delight_. “Afraid anyone will see what is yours?” He grinned. Deciding not to mention that most everyone here _had_ seen him naked, she might likely combust.

She appeared as if she might anyways, her blush now reaching her breasts. It was very hard to resist the urge to return to bed and see if he could tease that blush down further. “I just...I don’t think wandering around naked would be very...comfortable?”

“You needn’t worry, Zelda, I’m only going to ask the guards to bring something. And they’re far too well trained to stare.”

“O-oh.” Her embarrassment seemed to be all encompassing now. “Should I dress?”

He blinked at her for a moment, not quite sure why she was asking _him_. “You can dress or not, it’s _your_ choice,” he stressed. His stomach reminding him of the goal, he finally left the bedroom, reaching the main door he opened it enough to stick his head out.

It seemed he was only half-right about his claim about well trained guards, for while Utenu only came to attention, Link looked, blinked, looked again, before firmly staring ahead, red creeping up their pale cheeks. “If breakfast could be brought up, that would be greatly appreciated.” He bit back his grin at Link's blush, amusement enough to cover his own tugging attraction for now—it'd been so long since he'd felt it, he'd almost convinced himself he'd made it up all those years ago. 

“Of course, my King.” Utenu inclined her head, then gave a sharp look to Link. Who seemed more than happy to be the one to rush off to the kitchens.

Ghan snorted in lieu of a sigh. Torturing Link didn't do either of them favors, they and Zelda were still likely too Hyrulean to allow themselves multiple partners, even if Ghan himself were open to it. “Do knock before you bring the food in,” he told her dryly.

Her lips tugged in an attempt to smile, but she held it back. “Yes, my King.”

To his surprise, Zelda was still naked when he returned to the bedroom, painting a quite fetching picture as she rooted around in his desk. “Snooping already?”

With a yelp she whirled around, a book clutched to her chest. “Sorry! I was just, looking for something to read. I didn’t know how long you’d be…” Book still in her hands, she put it behind her, setting it back down. “Um…”

“It’s fine, Zelda.” He walked over to her, picking the book up. “Though perhaps I would recommend something other than farming practices, if you wish to stay awake.” Putting it back on the shelf with the other books he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “Now, let’s take a look.”

He went through a few brief tests, and she admitted she’d already healed most of it herself like he’d thought. He carefully chose not to ask, because it wouldn’t make either of them feel better about the whole situation. As gently as he could he rested a hand over the mottled green and yellow bruises and focused himself.

When he finished, there was knocking on the door, he was hungrier than before, and Zelda appeared surprised.

“I’ll get the door.” Link was likely among the people carrying food, so he’d spare the poor _vuei_ and wear something this time. Zelda’s giggle was worth making a fool of himself trying to walk and put on sirwal at the same time. “You can come out to eat whenever you’re ready.”

He was careful to step aside as he opened the door, wise enough to keep himself out of the way of the small stream of _voe_ carrying various platters of food. One of them _was_ Link, but they were gone in a seeming flash, Ghan perhaps didn’t feel as bad about about it as he should have, it _was_ a good lesson that things here would be different—he had a feeling if that sort of thing happened with Hyrulean nobles, things there would be _much_ different.

Zelda didn’t appear until after the other _voe_ had left, haphazardly dressed in her own clothes. To his surprise she didn’t comment on the amount of food, only sat, and began eating with a studied application Ghan knew very well.

Ghan joined her, content to let the quiet be for now.

After they had cleared all the plates, Zelda fell back on a cushion, letting out a little groan. “What...what is the plan for today? What do we... _do_?”

“Today? Not much,” he looked at the carved shutters that had been drawn here too, rattling occasionally with a strong wind. “The storm will keep everyone inside, hopefully it won’t last long.” Though it could also last days. “In general, I oversee the more important parts of running the town, but my Gerudo mainly look after themselves. I only become important when there’s a problem the Chief Guides can’t solve,” he answered with a wry grin.

“Couldn’t you...move the storm? I could feel the power you were drawing from…” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “You have more raw power than almost anyone I’ve ever met.” She, thankfully, didn’t sound _afraid_ of that fact, just...caught off guard.

He nodded. “I _could_ , but where? The farmlands are to the west, and it would ruin them. The south and east are home to the wandering tribes, and it would be a poor gift for their bravery. No one would send it north where it could become _ramont’sa_.” Though he’d heard tell from many Rito, and the last King’s own words, that the land to the north was quite pleasant. Which just went to prove that just because something was _pleasing_ , didn’t mean it was _good_. “We will survive it, perhaps a little battered, but we know we can handle it.”

Her expression was thoughtful. “Yes.” She blew out a long breath. “You’re right, I should have thought more before asking. Actions have consequences, for good or ill.” She sounded like she was quoting someone. Before he could ask though, she continued. “So we’re, what, figureheads?”

“Hardly,” he answered. “Though my people do take a certain amount of pride at being able to keep me in the fashion they think befits a king.” Always a careful balancing act, survival versus expectation. “I have power, I am the son of Din herself, proof that we truly are her Gerudo, her chosen people. I watch over all my people, and keep them safe, which does take work, but it is the sort that is spread out, and seemingly minute in the day to day.”

“Are you, though?” Zelda turned her head, for a moment her indigo eyes seemed alien to him, as if someone else looked through them. “The stories I grew up with say the Golden Three made Hyrule, then left, hoping that would keep it safe from Calamity-Demise, only leaving Hylia to guard us, well, Hylia and the Triforce. No mentions of a child of Din, or anything of the like.”

“I cannot speak to your stories,” he replied with a shrug. “Only point out that Hyrule has not always been kind to us. _Our_ story says that Din came to us, and brought those that wished to go with her here, promising her son to us every hundred years, to lead and guide us.”

She rolled onto her side, biting her lip again, before speaking. “Do you...do you really believe you’re the same person as the Demon King?”

He should have expected the question, though perhaps sooner even than this. Granted, having it asked to his face, instead of in a letter, could be considered the better option. “ _Exactly_ the same person? I do not believe so, no. The same spirit? Yes, that I do believe, if one six hundred years older.” If not with the experience those six hundred years should have given, so many _Alunshay_ cut down before they could know what they were capable of. Before they’d learned how to _live_.

Pushing herself upright, Zelda crawled over to him and straddled his lap, a prospect he would have enjoyed more if not for the conversation. “I am not sure _I_ can believe it, Ghan.” Goddess how he loved to hear her say that, as much as he enjoyed her possessive ‘King.’ “The last Gerudo King that I know of was...not a good person.” He almost laughed at her attempt at being diplomatic. “You are as far from him as I can imagine.”

“Perhaps.” It was kind of her to say, though she likely didn’t know the whole story. “But he didn’t start out evil, no one ever does.”

She looked like she wanted to argue _something_ , but instead she nodded. “But he made choices that he didn’t have to, even if he did them for good reasons.”

“How very wise,” he said dryly. She looked away and gave an uncomfortable squirm. Sighing, he bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Let me ask my mother to show you the King’s Archive, perhaps your Hylian eyes will see something I have not.”

“Why not you?” She looked at him again, thank the Goddess, eyes curious.

“I would like some time alone, if you feel comfortable with my mother.” They seemed to have gotten along well yesterday, but Zelda had likely _wanted_ Sobik to like her. As for himself, the voice hadn’t returned, but that didn’t mean being by himself for a while wouldn’t do him good. If only to regain more control.

A little frown crossed her face, but she eventually nodded. “Alright. Though I don’t see how I’m going much of anywhere with this sandstorm.”

Ghan let himself grin.

-

The whole town had _tunnels_ , a solution Zelda should have thought of herself really. Though she was surprised the earth here allowed for it, especially since she hadn’t felt any magic shoring it up.

Lost in thought she turned the corner in the Archives, which were a delight. Glancing up briefly, she let out a shriek when she came face to face with a _skull_.

“Zelda?” Sobik’s concerned voice floated over from a few rows away.

“I’m fine,” Zelda managed to answer. Her heart refused to slow as she tried to calm herself.

If this were the Archive of all the Kings who had come before, of _course_ there would be a skull. Beyond the topaz resting on the forehead, and the size, she wouldn’t have thought it was the skull of the Demon King himself. With a shaking hand, she reached out to touch it, only to feel cool bone, and a faint static from the topaz itself. No evil, no visions, just a skull.

Should she really have expected any different? Supposedly the Sheikah had once been able to command the dead; but such arts had been lost, among so many others, during the Quake. There was no way for her to demand answers, except in what he’d written. 

Though honestly, Zelda didn’t know _what_ she was looking for. Explanation? Something to validate, or repudiate, her fears?

She picked one of the books off the shelf under the skull and opened it towards the end. The handwriting was looping and fine, she found herself barely surprised. The Demon King already seemed so full of contradictions, what was one more?

_...Desire is not a problem to be solved, it is the wild beast unwilling to be tamed. It’s voice is the madness that the north wind carries with it, and none can escape even the barest whisper. Even I, who can walk the spirit roads and make the world bow to me, cannot sway it. It has been my constant companion since I was a child, and I fear, if given the chance to escape, I would remain within it’s clutches..._

Zelda shivered, putting the book back. She...she could almost understand the emotion in those words, understand why he might have been driven so.

She retreated from the shelves, back towards Sobik. The older woman had her eyes closed, hands hovering over a coil of dark red braided hair. While she waited for her to finish, Zelda wondered how many Gerudo Kings had gone to war, and survived it.

“Yes, Zelda?” Sobik’s voice made her jump, and the woman’s golden-brown eyes were warm with amusement when Zelda turned her attention back.

“What...What was Ghan like, as a child?” Carefully she sat on a carved wooden bench, merely practical for anyone who might visit? Or had some ancient King made it?

Sobik gave a little sigh, and joined her on the bench. “I did my best to let him grow up as any child might, but I am certain there are times when I could not give him that kindness. For he might die should others know who he was, so I cautioned him to secrecy, pushed him to choose the path of a _vai_ when he was old enough to give up the green of childhood. For five _Alunshay_ before him had died, and who knew how his Mother might react to a sixth time? Might she decide we no longer deserved her blessings, break the contract we have had for thousands of years?” Sobik shook her head. “I refused to fail my people so.

“Though perhaps you should ask him that question yourself,” she continued. “For I cannot know the mind of my son.” Another sigh. “Though you might have to push some, I am afraid my caution might have pushed him to hoard secrets as a roc hoards trinkets.”

Zelda managed a little laugh. “I’ve already come across that once,” she said.

A nod of agreement. “Yes, I heard the _voe_ in the kitchen speaking of you being with him this morning. I am glad to see you are uninjured.”

“Yes.” Zelda decided not to tell her she _had_ been injured, it served no real purpose. “Do you...have you figured out what might be the cause?” Perhaps together they could come up with a solution.

“No,” Sobik answered. “It is no ailment of the mind, nor a curse, for what I have gathered. But that it _is_ a curse is all I can think it to be. Yet if that is so, it is unlike any I have come across before, woven so deep into his very being that I cannot even pick out the thread of it to pull it free.”

Taking a deep breath, Zelda drew herself up to her full height, meeting Sobik’s gaze. “If, if it is possible, I would like to learn what you can teach me. I mean, I know I’m _voe_...though I’ve trained as _vai_ , so I guess that makes me the strangest sort of _vuei_ …” Warm fingers pressed against her lips, cutting her off. Zelda could already feel the blush crossing her cheeks.

“I understand, child,” Sobik said with a smile. “I cannot teach you _now_ , and perhaps not ever. But have some patience, as we shall see. If it is to be yes, I do not think it will be for a while yet. Settle in first, make yourself a place in my son’s household, before you go seeking new and strange knowledge that will lead you down unknown paths.”

Zelda nodded. “I understand, thank you.”

-

Over the next week, Link’s life settled into a pattern very familiar to her. She trained in the mornings, ate breakfast, than began her guard duty—thankful that she’d never been given night duty. She and Zelda might have been friends, close friends even, but outside of lessons they had never talked about sex, or even kissing. So knowing her best friend was _having_ it, was all Link felt she needed to know; and perhaps it was more than she _wanted_ to know, especially considering what she’d _seen_. Which did nothing to help the itching that always seemed to come with the King’s presence, or the the fact that Link was apparently _drawn_ to him.

Link did her best to put that out of her mind completely as she stepped into the King’s sitting room. The King himself was on a cushion, a lap table balanced across his knees, and a second one next to him which held a pot of tea—likely where the scent of turmeric was coming from that was making Link’s nose itch—and a plate of whole fruits.

“Link, good.” The King glanced at her briefly, and Link half-expected him to be doing it over the rim of a pair of glasses—an image Link would _not_ laugh at. “Have a seat. Tea?”

Sitting carefully, she shook her head. _“Thank you, though_.”

“It is my job to make sure all of my subjects are comfortable,” the King said, almost absently, as he put away the pile of papers he’d been reading through. “So then, have you been settling in alright? Any more problems like in the stable?”

Link was genuinely, utterly, flabbergasted. A _King_ asking her that? King Nossalph certainly never would have.

 _“No,”_ she finally answered, fingers fumbling. “ _Nothing like that. And it’s been...fine, I guess.”_ Goddesses, how else was she supposed to _respond_ to that.

The King nodded. Reaching over he picked up a pomegranate from the tray next to him, a small knife appearing in his hands. “Good. Should you have any problems that you cannot solve on your own, you are welcome to come to me, as any other Gerudo is.” The scent of pomegranate filled the air as he began to cut into it. “Speaking of, my offer from our first meeting still stands, if you wish I will add you to the records of the Gerudo as I will be adding Zelda.”

Which only required a nod of agreement, to her relief. Link not exactly being _opposed_ to the whole concept, certainly not enough to refuse it. “ _Thank you_.” Thankfully it didn’t bite to thank him, considering how their _second_ meeting had gone.

“Then it shall be so on Din’s Day.” Setting the knife down, the King’s broad fingers pushed carefully into the fruit and pried it open. Link did her very best not to squirm as she watched, shoving any and all thoughts of what else he might open that carefully out of her mind.

He was Zelda’s husband, for all intents and purposes, and thus off limits, nevermind that he was King and Link only a guard.

“Speaking of Din’s Day,” the King continued, seeming to have not noticed Link’s crisis. “I invite you to participate in the celebrations as you see fit. Though more importantly, a week after the day, Zelda and I shall be leaving for Holodrum, you will accompany us.” _There_ was the sort of behavior Link expected from Kings.

 _“I understand_.” It wasn’t a surprise that she was being told this, even though it was still almost three months until they’d leave. Royal trips took months to plan and organize alone. _“How long?”_

“Two weeks,” the King answered. Carefully he set the slivers of pomegranate on his lap desk, though not before offering one to Link, who took it without thought. “Traveling there doesn't take long, though you should speak with Anure about getting snowquill gear, the mountains will be cold, even in the middle of summer.”

Despite her tangled thoughts towards the King, the promise of travel, of crossing _mountains_ , did thrill something inside of Link. To be able to see even more of the world than she ever could have expected growing up a gift. “ _I’ll do that. Is there anything else?”_ Somehow she managed to ask, even with her hands full. Carefully she extracted half the seeds, shoving them into her mouth all at once, to make it easier. Sweet-tartness filled her mouth as she chewed.

“No,” there was amusement in the King’s voice. “That is all. You may return to your duties.”

Link did her best not to give off the air of fleeing as she bowed and left.

-

Zelda took a few deep breaths, picking off an imaginary hair from her sirwal, before opening the door and stepping into Ghan’s sitting room, that he didn’t have an office still caught her off guard, there were certainly enough rooms.

He gave her a warm smile as she came to sit across from him. While she waited for him to finish whatever he was working on, she made herself a cup of tea—thankfully it was one of those fermented Holodrum teas which she much preferred—and nibbled on a fruit pastry. She liked watching him anyways, trying to interpret every new facial expression she saw as he worked. 

Now that it had been almost a month since she’d arrived, she should start pushing for some work of her own. She was doing her best to take Sobik’s words to heart though, settling herself in before trying to reach for things, technically, beyond her. 

“So then, Zelda dear.” Ghan reached for her and she let herself be pulled onto his lap, happily settling against his warmth. “What brings you here?”

She rested her palm against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I wanted to let you know that I was going to make a petition tonight.”

It felt like she’d stumbled through her words, but his raised eyebrows suggested he understood her well enough. “I’m certain I’ve never been _warned_ of a petition before,” he said dryly. “Though I think it defeats something of the purpose.”

“I just...don’t want you to misunderstand,” she responded. She moved, so that she was straddling his lap, easier to look him in the eye, somewhat. “Because I’m not trying to upend the way things are, I just feel...our unique situation perhaps requires something...different.”

That he managed to raise his eyebrows even more made her lips twitch in a smile. “Mmmm, I see, so then what is it you are wishing to do?”

She made herself stare only at his eyes, even though she wanted to look at anything else. This was _important_ and she wanted to get it right so that he understood. “I know, I know that the Gerudo don’t really do marriages, so I can’t really be _partner_ like the others have.” She was finding the concept easier to grasp now that she was among it. “But…” she took a deep breath. “Every time they call me ‘consort’ I, I feel like there’s some ticking clock that I can’t hear or see, and that when it runs out I’ll be put aside.” His expression darkened and she rushed to continue before he could say anything. “I _know_ that’s not what it is, Ghan, we have King, and Queen, Consorts all the time in Hyrule, even if it means something different. I just...consort feels so _temporary_ , and I don’t want that.

“So that’s what I’m going to do tonight, I was going to petition for a new title.” Thankfully she didn’t have to go far to sag against him, all her courage leaving her in a rush now that she’d said her piece.

A thoughtful sound left him as his hands settled on her waist, lips pressing against the top of her head. “I don’t understand, but I see that it’s important to you.” His thumb stroked the edge of her sirwal contemplatively. “Granted I don’t see how signing a piece of paper makes things more ‘official’ than people living together, but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that you Hyruleans are strange that way.” There was a fond note in his voice, but that didn’t stop her from letting out a huff.

“It’s not just a paper and you know it, Ghan,” she replied, just as fondly. “If it was just signing a paper I don’t think the Hytopian designers pounding down my door would be _quite_ so desperate to have me pick them to make me a dress.” The next royal to be married wouldn’t be for another ten or so years, after all. “There’s a ceremony, with lots of praying, and talking, and a general showing off of how wealthy we are.” She rolled her eyes.

“Which is also utterly baffling, except for the showing off bit.” She laughed, and felt a warmth in her chest to see his quick grin. His fingers settled under her chin, tilting her face back up. “But I am still willing to do it, baffling bits and all. Though I hardly care if you do it in a dress, sirwal and choli, or rags.” He kissed the tip of her nose as she let out another brief laugh.

“So then, a title more like partner? A curious challenge you’ve set for me, though you’re right that it will ruffle more than a few feathers.” He kissed her nose a second time. “I’ll accept your petition when you give it, but in return.” He drew away slightly so they could look each other in the eye again. “I want _you_ to accept that, until I give you this new title, I won’t attempt to penetrate you with my penis, and that _you_ won’t try to convince me to do it. Is that acceptable.”

Zelda nodded. “Yes, I can live with that. So when I get the title, you’ll finally do it?” Her voice turned a little breathless at the thought. She’d been enjoying the time they spent together in bed, when she didn’t have to deal with his nightmares, but she very much did want to know what it would feel like to have him inside her finally. 

“Yes.” His agreement sent a different sort of rush through her.

“Then I agree to your proposal.” Even if he didn’t give her a name tonight, she was certain he was clever enough to come up with something in a week or so.

-

Ghan lounged on the pillows that functioned as his throne—certain that they had to be far more comfortable than that ostentatious chair he’d seen in Hyrule castle. Nakeri and her partner Timair bowed before retreating.

“Are there any others who would seek my wisdom?” He asked. “Or shall I call an end to this gathering?” That it was getting late was no matter, he would stay and offer counsel and aid for as long as it was needed, but the petitioners had grown fewer and fewer. Though Zelda had yet to make her own petition.

No response came from the Gerudo, which Zelda seemed to take as a sort of sign. Rising gracefully from her spot next to him and moving to prostrate herself before him—though he was focused on work, he still let himself have a moment of appreciation for the sight, and entertaining the idea of it happening again later. “I would seek your wisdom, my King, if you would give it.”

Whispers began in the crowd, though they cut out at his glance. “What wisdom is it that you seek?”

She rose from prostration to kneeling, though kept her gaze respectfully averted. “Your wisdom and knowledge of language, my King. To be your consort is a great honor, yet I would seek a different title, if it pleases you. I know there can be no Gerudo Queen, nor is there a need of a War Chief. But by the very nature of how we came to be partnered, I believe consort is not a great enough title.”

More whispers, though they died as quickly as the first wave. Ghan didn’t have a doubt that the whole desert would know of this by sunrise, and he’d receive a whole host of opinions and thoughts on the matter.

“You are right, Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, that our arrangement is not typical of how things are done. And that perhaps a new title should be fashioned should such a thing happen again. I cannot give you an answer now, of course, for such a thing takes time and deliberation. Consideration as well, for I do not wish to dishonor the past in forging the future.

“So then, I shall bequeath this new title to you on Din’s Day, for a new path should rightly begin on the new year.”

She finally looked at him, eyes narrowing as she realized he’d outplayed her. Even so, she bent down again, forehead touching the rug. “I thank you for agreeing to my suit, oh great King, and that you seek to give this the deliberation it is due,” her words were perhaps a little sharper than before, but still cloaked in respect. “I will await your answer with baited breath.” She glanced at him through her lashes, her gaze perhaps promising a little revenge.

He found himself almost looking forward to it.

-

It perhaps took a few days before Zelda had the perfect moment to strike, but she took ruthless advantage of the opportunity when it arose.

Ghan looked down at her, expression mildly befuddled, as she knelt and began undoing the knots of his sirwal. “And what is this?” He managed a little flex, but the magic she was using to hold him against the wall held mostly firm. She was more than certain he could break free if he really wanted to, on the other hand.

“Revenge,” she told him tartly, letting out a little hum when she freed his cock. The weight of him heavy in her hands, even flaccid; though it was already twitching and growing with the few attentions it had received. Leaning in, she lavished it with more, nuzzling the soft, warm skin, and laying a brief kiss upon the little bit of his head that peeked out from the hood.

A grunt left him, and she didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Revenge…” he cleared his throat and her grin widened. “That’s a serious charge, any, any particular reason?”

She let her fingers glide up and down his growing shaft, her breath just as teasing. “For being clever, _too_ clever.” She _would_ still hold to the agreement, but that didn’t stop her from being a _little_ annoyed about it. Opening her mouth, she gave his head another kiss, tongue darting out for a brief lashing.

“Hnn, some...would say that is one of my better traits.”

With now practiced ease she took his head into her mouth, letting out a neutral hum. Perhaps another time she’d try to take more of him, see if she could do more than the last, but that wasn’t the point right now. Using her hands and mouth she carefully rolled back his hood, teasing the head of him with gusto. She let herself get lost in the taste of him, and her own growing pleasure, but not for long.

Recognizing the signs of him having reached full hardness, she pulled away with a sigh, giving his head a brief kiss goodbye before standing.

Ghan’s eyes were dark, and they flashed as she stepped away. “Zelda…” She didn’t bother to hide the shiver his tone sent through her.

“Revenge, my King,” her voice shook a little, but it still had the tart note from earlier. “Is not supposed to be _enjoyed_ by the person it is being visited upon.”

He bared his teeth, and with a delicious looking flex he managed to shatter the paper she’d written her holding spell upon. He bridged the gap between them in a step, and scooped her up, drawing a shriek that was both surprise and delight out of her. Another step and it was _her_ back against the wall, and she was being lifted up even more, until he was eye level with her groin. “Perhaps you would allow me to apologize,” his rough voice made her shiver again. “And so engender my sweet Princess’ tender mercies?”

“You may try,” she did her best to sound imperious.

“I believe I will do more than that,” he murmured as he worked her free of her own sirwal. When he was finished, her legs were slung over his shoulders, her weight carefully balanced against the wall and him. He nuzzled the crease of her thigh, fingers petting her hair before they dove in to part her swollen lips. “Mmm, I see the problem. Though there is a certain delight at seeing your pretty little flower beg so, Princess.”

Even after a month, those sorts of words still made her flush. Tangling her hands in his hair she rocked her hips. “I am not satisfied, my King,” she gasped out in agreement.

He gave no response, only bent his head in and began to consume her with the same dedication and enthusiasm as he always did.

She had sense enough to muffle her scream when her orgasm came, pain flaring through her briefly as her head banged against the wall. “I…” she panted. “I am still not satisfied, my King.” She felt a certain amount of pride at being so coherent.

A hum, which sent aftershocks of pleasure through her. Another kiss, then she felt him mutter something. Seconds later she let out a yelp as something hard and cold rubbed against her seam. Looking down she blinked, it was...a phallus, brightly colored and glittering in a way that suggested glass. It didn’t match Ghan in size and shape, but it was certainly larger than a few fingers. “Ghan?”

“I did say I would find a way to prepare you…” he drifted off suggestively, rubbing it against her once more, the tip of it glancing against her clit and making her squirm. “Cold?

Biting her lip hard, she nodded.

“Should I warm it for you?” another stroke against her mound. “Or perhaps you’d like to feel it warm up inside you?”

“Awful,” she gasped. “Horrible man.” He only continued to tease her with it, hooded gaze watching her intently. “Inside,” she begged. “I don’t want it warm, I want it _inside_.” She might’ve wished it was his own cock, but that wouldn’t stop her from finally knowing what it would feel like to be filled up.

She was fairly certain he made some comment about ice, but it was quickly lost at the feel of that cold hardness parting her lips. Unrelenting in the face of her body’s natural resistance, until her gate gave way and she had to quickly muffle a shriek as it began to enter her.

When it reached the depth of his fingers, he began to thrust it in and out. She began to rock her hips, trying to draw it deeper, a sound of triumph leaving her when it _did_.

Halfway, and she barely felt the pain of her head hitting the wall a second time, her hands and fingers scrabbling against him at the new sensations coursing through her. It did soon begin to warm up inside her, though not for long, and she couldn’t hold back her shriek this time at the feel of it becoming cold again thanks to Ghan’s magic.

Deeper, deeper, so cold and hard and...and...she felt Ghan’s warm palm against her mound. “How greedy, to take it all on the first try.”

“Goddess.” She thrashed. “Ghan!”

“Do you like it?” He sounded utterly pleased with himself and she found herself wishing she were in a better position so she could _bite_ him. “Perhaps I should have gotten the larger one, as you happily push past what most consider acceptable.”

She tried to make a derisive sound, but it only came out a moan. “Goddesses, it’s good,” she finally answered. Her enjoyment meant he was likely to do it _more_ after all.

His fingers curled against her mound, and she shuddered and clenched as he began to drag the phallus out. Even as lost to the sensations as she was, a thump from the end of the hall caught her attention. Her head shot up and she blanched at seeing Link there, sitting on their ass and _staring_. On the heels of mortification, however, came an unexpected roar of pleasure.

Link managed to recover, hopping to their feet and dashing away. “Link!” She didn’t know _why_ she was trying to call them back, it wasn’t as if there was any explanation for this—she shoved aside the voice that suggested she was calling them back so they could keep watching. Perhaps apologize, but what for? Except that they were her best friend and she felt bad at being caught by them. If ‘caught’ was even the right term in this case.

Pleasure filled her again as Ghan pulled out the phallus, but to her surprise he began to lower her, giving her a gentle kiss before he set her on the ground. “Go, otherwise it will bother you the rest of the day.” He wasn’t wrong.

Quickly she redid her sirwal, then rose up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “We’ll continue this later,” she promised. She felt bad for him, but also her own body wasn’t happy with the turn of events. She raced to catch up with Link, hopping they hadn’t hidden themselves away somewhere.

Just barely she managed to catch them in the hallway of her room and theirs. “Link.” Lunging she grasped their arm, at least preventing them from going into their room—it had no lock she knew, but she would be a poor friend if she violated their privacy like that. She met their eyes, though their own darted as if they wanted to look everywhere but at her. “I’m, I’m sorry you had to see that.” She’d chosen that hallway because she knew it was a lesser used one, so thought they’d never be caught at all.

Zelda did her best to ignore the fact that she’d apparently _enjoyed_ getting caught—and she didn’t even know Ghan’s thoughts on it, though she would likely need to for her own peace of mind. Link’s arm felt warm under her hand, and her body was aching and dissatisfied that a part of her tried to push for her to _kiss_ Link. She forced herself to ignore it. Gerudo might not have raised an eyebrow at multiple partners, but Hyruleans _would_ , and despite being out in the desert, she was sure the court would hear about it sooner rather than later.

Link tugged their arm free. “ _It’s fine, Zelda.”_ There was a stiffness to their sign that suggested otherwise. “ _I_ _shouldn’t have let my curiosity get the better of me.”_

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before she could answer they vanished through their door. Leaving her to hope this was something that could be fixed.

-

Link thumped their head a few times against the stone wall of their room. Every time they blinked all they could see was Zelda propped up on the King’s shoulders while he pleasured her, his own cock just as arresting.

With a groan Link threw themselves onto the bed. First the King, and now _Zelda._

Link felt tangled and antsy inside, their whole body needing to do _something_. Somehow, somehow this was definitely all the King’s fault, and Link was going to _punch_ that man.

-

Ghan slid the phallus out of Zelda one final time, drinking in the sight of her pale body trembling in the aftermath of pleasure. There was a temptation to free himself and push right in, though as much as she might welcome it he set the temptation aside as he always had. Soon enough it would happen.

He settled against her on his side, propping his head up with an arm. "About this afternoon..." Perhaps it was cruel to ask her that when her defenses were so down, but when else should he?

That she had energy enough to cover her hands, muffling her groan and hiding her pretty blush, perhaps suggested he should have done _more_. Next time. "I don't want to talk about it," she muttered.

"I found I didn't quite mind it at all," he said, hoping his own honest answer would invite her own. Granted, it wasn't exactly the first time someone had _watched_ him, though it was in the context of masturbation and fertility rituals. Link was a different story, clearly, considering Ghan's own attraction. Granted he doubted Zelda would agree to bringing the other Hylian into their marriage bed if he suggested it, even if she might want it too—Ghan wasn't quite brave enough to risk asking her that just yet.

"What?" She squeaked, an indigo eye peaking out between her fingers. "I mean...oh Goddesses." Her whole body squirmed, and Ghan couldn't resist reaching out his free hand to rest on her belly, effectively pinning her in place. "Maybe..." she muttered something in a language he didn't know, but could still tell it was a curse of some sort. "MaybeIlikedittoo."

Ghan would _not_ grin at the admission, knowing it had likely taken a lot out of her. It _did_ bode well however, for the prospect of her helping him with the fertility rituals—later, once she'd grown more comfortable. So at least if it was only ever just the two of them, there would be _some_ outlet for this preference. "Thank you, for telling me." He kissed the top of her head. Hopefully encouraging her to speak of such things would help her admit to other preferences that were outside the norm—which was so far a stalemate.

She shoved at his shoulders and he let himself roll. "You're welcome," she replied with delightful tartness. "Now, my King, I think there's something _I_ can help you with..." She kissed his chest down towards his aching cock, and with a groan he let her do what she would.

-

As the days passed, Zelda was grateful she and Link managed to put the whole thing behind them and get back to normal, or as normal as they got.

Though she did somewhat forget about it, as she and Ghan were swept up into Din’s Day preparations, as well as for the trip afterwards. The fact she alone had so much work to do, did mean she could put off the Hytopians who had braved the desert to try and meet with her—which while perhaps not _nice,_ did do wonders for Zelda’s stress.

Before Zelda knew it, it was the night before Din’s Day. She and Ghan were curled up together in bed, mostly just content to exist together. It was still a risk, of course, but Ghan hadn’t fought her on it. Zelda was doing her best to keep a schedule of Ghan’s nightmares, but so far, nothing like a pattern had arisen; a part of Zelda wanted to argue that that just meant she hadn’t been keeping track long enough.

Ghan was prone on the bed, reading, while she was curled up against him, staring across his chest to the balcony outside, newly erected colorful banners flapping in the night wind.

It was a soothing sight, but Zelda found she wasn’t calmed in the least. With a sigh she pushed herself upright and climbed out of the bed, feeling Ghan’s gaze on her as she went to the vanity table and picked up a brush.

“What is it?” He asked as she rejoined him.

Another sigh, and she began brushing her hair, though it hardly needed it. “I’m just...nervous, I think? Either that, or this foreboding feeling I’m having means something is going to go utterly, terribly wrong in the next few days.” She paused, realizing how that sounded. “I’m hoping it’s just nerves.”

He let out a chuckle as he sat up, freeing the brush from her hands and easily turning her around. Instead of brushing her hair, his fingers dug into her scalp, massaging gently. “Trust me, you think it’s a lot to handle, but then you’ll be in the middle of it and realize how easy it all is.”

“I know.” How many times had it happened to her back in the Castle after all? “Which doesn’t help me _now_.” Despite her complaining, she let out a soft moan at his ministrations, some of the tension finally leaching out of her.

“I know,” he replied back. His lips touching her crown as his fingers moved down to her neck. “Just take it one moment at a time, and remember I’ll be there to help you with anything.”

Zelda let her head fall forward, giving him more access. “Did you think of a title for me?” She asked nervously.

“I did.” Another brief kiss. “But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow like everyone else, minx. You won’t charm it out of me tonight.”

If she weren’t feeling so restless, she _would_ try to charm it out of him. As it stood, she realized it _could_ wait. “I hope it’s a good one.”

“It is,” he answered, and she could hear the smile in it. “It’s _very_ Gerudo appropriate, which will go over well.” She let out a sound of protest as his fingers left her, he chuckled again. “I think we should both try to sleep, Zelda.”

With a disappointed sound she snuggled against him, closing her eyes and sending off a prayer to Hylia that all would be well.

It felt like she’d only closed her eyes for a second, then it somehow was far too early in the morning and she was being hurried out of Ghan’s rooms by Riviko and Geitaifi to get her ready for the day. Mostly she was grateful there was tea and a light breakfast for her to nibble on as they did her hair.

Her clothes were black as always, though heavily embroidered in red: suns, flames, and boars all covorted across the silky fabric. The red makeup Geitaifi applied perhaps made Zelda feel like she was some seductress in a play, but that didn’t stop it from being striking. Adding a third pair of earrings to her ears hurt a little, but she soothed the pain with magic, and there was something pleasing about having the space for earrings for each of the Three.

When she met Ghan outside the palace, a few of the guard, including Link, waiting with him, she nearly swallowed her tongue. He wore only sirwal, just as embroidered as her own, and his usual array of golden jewelry—if rubies appeared more than usual—but his chest had also been painted in red and gold designs. She had to resist the urge to rub herself against him to smear the paint between the two of them. “I think you can never outdo yourself, then you prove me wrong, my King.”

He laughed as he took her arm, leading her through the empty streets to the temple. “I aim to delight and surprise, my Princess.”

Sobik met them at the doors to the temple, her white robes trimmed in red. “I will leave you to say your prayers,” she said with a low bow. Taking their guards with her as she departed.

Zelda knelt gracefully in front of the statue of Din. Taking deep breaths and doing her best to calm herself so that she might better receive the Will of the Goddesses. No such voices reached back for her, and Zelda hoped that was a sign that all was well. She sent up prayers for health, and happiness, and good fortune for all her people, then followed Ghan to a small dais that had been installed for today, grateful that the pillows were comfortable.

The doors to the temple opened, and the Gerudo began to file in. Some found places to sit on the stone floor right away, others made prayers and offerings to Din first, but soon the temple was full to the brim with color and voices. 

Snatches of conversation and song reached Zelda on the dais, but soon all fell quiet as Sobik stepped into the small circle of floor that had been left clear around Din’s statue.

As if to build tension, Sobik waited a few seconds before she began to speak, a trick Zelda knew well. “Welcome all. We come together to celebrate our great lady, the Goddess of the Sands, and to mark another year of survival in this, our given land!”

Her words earned her a roar of celebration that rattled Zelda to her bones. 

When it quieted, Sobik began to speak again. “So then, let us begin with our History, so that we may never forget it. For without it we are just wanderers of the sands, without purpose or dignity.

“So long ago, that none who live can speak of it, we roamed the waves of a great ocean. None were our equal in the ways of sailing and navigation, and we won our respect with the sweat of our brow and the blood we shed. But the Goddess of the Sands came to us, and she said:”

“I would give you new purpose,” Ghan spoke. Zelda would have jumped if she hadn’t known it was coming. For it seemed not even the Sage was allowed to speak for the Goddess. “Should you choose to come with me. A new land to call your own, but you must choose.”

“And choose we did,” Sobik stepped back in with ease. “Not all of us chose to go with her, but many did, and we did not begrudge those who decided to remain, for change can be hard when it is unknown.

“She carried us across ways and means that cannot be spoken of, until she set us upon an ocean of sand.”

“It will not love you,” Ghan spoke again. “Just as the ocean did not love you, but you can win its respect. It will test you, and give you challenges that you might not be able to overcome. Your sacrifices will be greater still, but I do not give you these hardships without cause.

“Every hundred years, my son shall be born among you, to lead you to glory and greatness as your King. He, and the desert, will teach you many things. Raise him will, and you will never lose my favor.”

“We agreed, and soon rejoiced, for he was indeed born unto us, and we named him Ghananorv, the son of the sacred flame. And when he claimed his crown he did indeed lead us to glory and great magics. We did not even care that the other humans were wary of us, tales of blue-skinned human-seeming demons who had betrayed them for a dark god dogging our steps...”

Zelda perhaps got lost in the story, the words almost blurring together as Sobik recounted thousands of years of history. Perhaps Zelda grew a little uncomfortable when she spoke of her people gleefully leading old armies to their doom during the Unification, even as she knew that the Gerudo would bow to no king but their own. So it was no surprise they refused those of Hylia’s bloodline.

“...and when Hyrule began to tear itself apart from civil war, we took advantage. Our King was born again, and when the war claimed his mother the Rova twins took him under their wing, teaching him all their arcane arts, and telling him of the bounties of Hyrule.

“So even before he claimed his crown, the war consumed him in a way. Before even that however, we knew the _Alunshay_ whom the Hylians called the Demon King, had a hole in his heart. We loved him still, knowing it would not be enough. He could not love us back, but like the desert before him, he treasured us, and called us his own. He was Ghananorv fa’Gadumire, though when the Hylian king begged peace, he gave his title as fa’Dragahmire. For we knew from our History that Hyrule and it’s humans were not honorable enemies, so what was it to lie to them?

“It is in this time that the first Nabooru was born as well, as sharp as steel and clever as a roc. When our King went to Hyrule, she followed, a call in her blood drawing her to her fate.

“King though he was, he met his match in the child princess, Zelda, who bore the blessings of two goddesses by Hylian reckoning. It was from her that Nabooru learned she was a Sage of old, to stand against an evil that would consume the world if not stopped, our own King.

“She returned to the desert bearing his head, claiming the bitter honor of Kingkiller. She sang to us of a second war, that lasted moments in our own world, but years in the Sacred Realm of the Goddesses. Of how in the end, the King bowed to her. ‘I wanted to be better.’ He died with the honor he sometimes lacked, and we retreated to our canyon to mourn.

“A hundred years, and Nabooru Kingkiller ruled us as best she could as our Sage. But there was much rejoicing when our King was born again. Only then for a greater cruelty to be visited upon us…”

The voices of all the Gerudo began to sing, and Zelda found herself shivering at the sorrow of their words.

“ _Zelda, new queen,_

_Did hear of our King,_

_And fear grew in her heart,_

_For the words of her grandmother did ring:_

_‘I will return again.’_

_“Zelda, full of fear,_

_Did gather her terrible shadows and bring_

_Them to our lands_

_There she bade them their gruesome task:_

_All children young to slay.”_

“And oh, did we scream when we found them.” Six hundred years and yet so much grief raged through Sobik, that Zelda found herself crying in response. “And Nabooru Kingkiller raged at this betrayal, for she had loved this little Zelda as her own _vehvi_. She did not beg for justice, but demanded it!

“Our great Goddess answered, and the world trembled in her wrath. As Nabooru had once borne our King, so we bore our dead as the Goddess calmed the Wasteland and led us further west.”

“Here you will dig,” Ghan's voice was gruff, his own sorrow evident. “There is water, enough to tend you all for ages to come. Here you will dig, to bury the bones of your children, and a garden shall grow in their memory.”

“Nabooru Kingkiller died of grief, her bones to join the children none of us could have saved.”

The story continued, but Zelda couldn’t pay attention. Her emotions tangled. Her own histories never speaking of such a massacre, but would they have? Zelda the Enduring had perhaps never been a _beloved_ queen, but well, she had endured all the hardships of the Great Quake and people had respected her for that. And it would not have been the first time Hyrule had tried to hide some of it’s more awful actions. Though historians now were trying to bring such things to light so that the country, hopefully, did not repeat the past.

A warm hand settled over her own, giving her a start, and thankfully pulling her from her dark thoughts. She glanced at Ghan, who gave her a little smile. He raised her hand and kissed her palm, the now familiar gesture soothing. Even so, she found herself scooting closer, seeking more comfort.

“...and now we have a King once more, who has done us much good. Already he has managed what his predecessors have not, for Hyrule will soon be his. A fitting revenge for all they have inflicted upon us.”

The Gerudo roared as Sobik gave a bow.

While part of Zelda wanted to laugh at the words, for hadn’t she thought something similar years ago? The rest of her felt strangely uncertain in the wake of her emotional turmoil. Love, after all, didn’t have to have a place in a royal marriage. But the idea that she _could_ love Ghan had begun to take root inside her, yet how could it survive, if all she was was revenge?

The crowd began to quiet as children in green cloaks stepped forward for the Path of Adulthood. In the brief moment of calm Zelda leaned closer to Ghan. “Is, is that all I’m to be then, revenge?” Better to know now, so she could save herself the heartache. Though she was certain it would take time to separate love from all they did.

He looked down at her. “Not to me, no. Not since you danced with us in the rain.”

Zelda had to look away, despite having wanted that answer. Her heart feeling like it might beat out of her chest at any second. She found herself looking at Link, which, strangely, didn’t make her feel _better_. He should have comforted as much as Ghan’s words did. But she remained just as flustered. What was with her today?

Thankfully her part in the Path of Adulthood was simple enough that she didn’t need to think. Though she felt somewhat bad that she barely heard the children as they announced themselves and their chosen positions. She managed to kiss them each on the forehead however, and a smile tugged at her lips as she watched them proudly show off their twin kiss marks to anyone who would pay attention.

Ghan stood, and the Temple fell quiet. He offered her a hand up, and she took it. “I know we all wish to eat and drink our fill, but before we go, there is one more bit of business that needs to be addressed.” He turned to her, copper eyes warm as he looked into her own. “Months ago now, I promised I would find a new title for Zelda, Princess of Hyrule. For she was right in saying her purpose in my life is more than consort, and too great for partner. So then…”

He _knelt_ and Zelda found herself being overcome with a whole new set of emotions, for it almost didn’t feel like real life. More like a dream of a play, all surprised whispers and earnest... _love_ in Ghananorv’s face. “So I would bestow upon you, Zelda, _fa’vususarra_. My chosen love, the thief who has stolen my heart in the night.”

“I…” Zelda was a _princess,_ she would _not_ let her words fail her. “You do me the greatest of honors, my King, to grant me your heart. I…” Her words tangled in her throat. If not words, then actions. She grabbed his face and bending in, _kissed_ him. 

Even the raucous cheers of the Gerudo faded away in the face of kissing him. 

They were both breathing heavily as they broke apart. Zelda leaned her forehead against his, unwilling to break their moment just yet. “I...I think I do love you in return, Ghananorv. Though I am not quite sure how I would truly _know_.” 

Laughter left him, and she yelped as he scooped her up. “You will know it time, my thieving Princess.”

-

It was perhaps very unguard like of him, but Link let out a satisfied groan as he finished off another skewer of goat. To be fair to him, a few of the guard appeared to be on their way to getting drunk, so clearly it wasn’t frowned upon.

This new years was certainly more of a party than Link was used to. At least after the morning. He picked his teeth with the skewer contemplatively for a moment. It had been hard not to notice Zelda’s own reaction—or his impulse to toss away propriety and comfort her—or Link’s own...disconnect from the horrors within Hyrule’s past.

He hadn’t exactly grown up with the illustrious history of the country in the first place. His mother had told him it existed, and that she and his father had served in the castle before his father’s death, but nothing more. He’d certainly never thought Hyrule was _perfect_. 

Which hadn’t stopped him from feeling some echo of Zelda’s turmoil, or the grief of the Gerudo.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Ikafu nudged his shoulder firmly. “Though perhaps you should be charging me with that long face, not sure you’re allowed to be sad during such a wonderful feast. Not with the games about to start.”

A huff left Link as he set the skewer down on an empty tray—he was pretty sure no one wanted to be stabbed by accident while he replied. “ _Just thinking.”_

She snorted in reply. “There is _definitely_ no thinking allowed. Come on, let’s see how well your archery really _has_ improved.”

He let her drag him along willingly. 

Outside was hot even with awnings covering nearly all the main streets, but that didn’t stop people from celebrating. Song and alcohol both flowed liberally as he and Ikafu wove through the crowd towards the bazaar. Which had been completely emptied yesterday to make room for a small fighting ring, a set of archery targets, and even a narrow racetrack along the outer edges. Another dais had been set up, and around the edges of it a few _voe_ were preparing old barrels for tonight.

“Are you going to do a run tonight?” She asked casually as she picked through the bows on offer.

Link nodded. Zelda had outright refused when the King had explained it last week, but Link was all too curious. The King _had_ promised the Gerudo knew what they were doing and no one ever got hurt. Stepping up next to Ikafu, Link picked through the bows as well. Flexing his fingers when the Triforce began to itch. He supposed there were worse things for it to do than pick out a bow for him.

Ikafu seemed satisfied with her own bow, and gave him a grin. “You’re so small we might have to give you one of the child's barrels.”

He gave her his pinky in response. Triforce bow found he gave it a few slow tests, before giving a little nod. _“That barrel_ ,” he finally answered her, pointing at the biggest of them all.

She laughed as they collected quivers of arrows and arm guards from a _vai_. “That one is the King’s and you know it, Link. Your eyes might be too big for your stomach this time,” she teased. She stepped up to the line for the furthest target before attaching her quiver and arm guard.

 _“I could handle it_ ,” Link said testily. He’d never tried running with a few hundred pounds of barrel before, but it couldn’t be _that_ hard if you got the balance point right. Finishing his own setup he drew an arrow and sighted down it, giving a little nod of satisfaction, this was going to be easy.

“I’d like to see you try and convince the King of that. Best out of five?”

He nodded, and they began. Link grateful he had something else to focus on besides thinking of ways to convince the King of anything.

The rhythm of shooting came easily to Link, thankfully, and before he knew it they were finished. A quick-footed _vehvi_ raced to the target before either of them could, hauling it back for them—he gave them a rupee for their trouble. Link won by a point.

Ikafu huffed. “Another task,” she tilted her head towards the ring, where a pair of _vai_ were currently facing off with spears.

Link shook his head. _“Stay here_.” Link was good at fighting, he’d had no choice but to be, really. But he enjoyed archery more. “ _Beat anyone who wants to challenge me_ ,” he gave a grin of his own.

She arched her eyebrows. “That so? Well then, lets see if I can’t drum you up some competition. And you’d better win at least some, could make good money off you.” Before he could answer she was back at the _vai_ minding the arrows, saying something too low for Link to catch, then vanished into the crowd.

While he waited, he found himself a small patch of shade, and a cup of water. A _voe_ tried to offer him a beer, but Link shook his head. Getting drunk would only favor his opponents, and Link wasn’t going to let that happen.

A _vai_ in the red of the common guard approached, eyebrow crooked in disbelief. “So you can beat any of us, can you, Hylian?”

Nodding, he jerked his head towards the far target, holding up five fingers.

They took to the line, they shot. Link won handily.

Which earned him narrowed eyes. “You’re cheating,” she challenged.

Link didn’t even bother to roll his eyes, he wouldn’t exactly call using magic to pick a bow _cheating_ , he might’ve picked it anyways, even without magic after all. “ _Again?”_ He spelled out slowly. Their little tiff had drawn a crowd, but Link didn’t mind in the least.

“Alright,” she begrudgingly agreed. “Though I want the target set back five more paces.”

A shrug, it didn’t matter to Link how far back it was. Though her words did earn some murmurs from the crowd.

The target was set back, they lined up, and shot.

This time Link gave the _vehvi_ fetching the target twenty rupees—if they were going to keep doing it he might as well make it worth their while. He might’ve only hit the center twice instead of three times, but he did better than the _vai_.

Who bared her teeth, but didn’t challenge him on cheating again, instead storming off. 

Link quickly drank another glass of water as two challengers stepped up this time.

His only understanding of time passing came from the moving of the shadows, and the size of the crowd around him. Winning had lost some of it’s shine, but he also refused to be defeated. He ate and drank between bouts, happy to keep going until it was time for the barrels.

“So this is what all the fuss is about,” Zelda’s voice behind him had him turning with a grin.

She looked beautiful and _happy_ in the evening light, and Link ignored the twist in his belly. Instead sketching a little bow. “ _Would you like to try_?”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “I know you’d beat me Link, I’ll save myself the embarrassment now, thank you.”

“I’ll take up the offer,” the King’s voice rumbled as he stepped up next to Zelda. Link had gotten so used to the itching _pull_ that it was almost possible to ignore it now, _almost_. “But perhaps something a little more challenging?”

 _“Alright,”_ Link didn’t even have to think about it. “ _What do you propose, Your Majesty?”_

He gave it the thought Link was certain the question deserved. “Fifteen targets, fifteen arrows, on horseback. Fastest and most accurate wins.”

Link grinned. “ _I accept_.” The King might be a good horseman, and archer, but he couldn’t beat Link and Epona, no way, no how.

A small uproar started in the crowd as the news passed, they reluctantly retreated as the King had other Royal Guard set up the targets and bring the horses. Link emptied his quiver until only fifteen arrows remained.

“And how about something, just between us, to make it more interesting?” The King said quietly.

Link arched an eyebrow in question.

“Should I win...you’ll speak with Zelda.” He inclined his head towards her, seated under a nearby awning with the best view of the area. “And admit that you have perhaps been lying to her about everything being _fine_.” The King arched an eyebrow. “Lies should not be between friends.”

Even as Link’s heart froze for a moment in his chest, he bared his teeth. _“If I win, I get to punch you,”_ he replied without thought.

That it surprised the King was worth it. “Well, well, one of my own Guard wishes me harm, this won’t do at all. Fine, I think it a fair equal.”

Epona’s familiar whicker made Link’s ears twitch, and he grinned when a _vehvi_ brought it over. She leaned into his scratching like a dog would, before tossing her head and pressing it against his chest. He kissed her star, humming happily.

Someone had put a saddle on her, but Link took it off. The extra weight would only slow them down. As he did he glanced over at the King and his own mare, a giant that Link was certain only qualified as a horse on a technicality. She was a beautiful black, but had to be at least twice the size of Epona herself. It’d take her time to get up to speed, but she’d be as unstoppable as a Goron once she got there.

At least the King treated her with care, quietly talking to her as he checked his own saddle.

Link hopped onto Epona, letting himself get used to riding her bareback before nudging her towards the start line. The King joined him a few seconds later. “Better get ready to explain yourself,” he said.

The only response Link gave to that was a roll of his eyes.

“If you’re both ready,” Zelda’s voice rang out. “Then. You. Can. GO!”

Epona leapt ahead of the King’s black at Link’s nudge, falling into a flying pace with ease. Link’s fingers itched for an arrow, but he made himself do a full round of the circuit first, marking out the targets in his mind. Only half noticing when the King overtook him at a gallop, or the sounds of the King’s own bow firing. Once he’d passed the start line did he begin to fire. His time might be slower, but he’d catch up on accuracy.

Waiting also meant he knew how better than the King he had to do.

It took two full circuits before Link used his last arrow, Epona slowing with ease, barely winded. She eyed the King’s own mare, also seeming no worse for wear, and tossed her head again. Link rubbed her neck in praise.

The horses were led back to the stable, the targets brought over for the scores to be tallied.

In the end, Link won, by a single point.

He grinned at the King, giving a bow.

“Yes, a good match,” the King agreed, his voice booming over the uproar of the crowd. “I am proud you serve as one of my chosen Guard, even if you are a little impertinent.” 

Link’s grin grew. He stepped up to the King—a part of him absently realizing the last time they’d been this close was Zelda’s birthday—drew his arm back, and socked the King as hard in the chest as he could. He wanted the shoulder, but couldn’t _reach_ it from this angle.

The King grunted, but barely showed any other signs that Link had otherwise even touched him. Link should have guessed as much considering, but still, a little stumble would have been nice.

He gave another bow, then vanished into the crowed before Zelda could reach him and likely yell at him for being a fool, nearly running into Azira carrying a pitcher of beer from the smell of it. Link helped the Rito catch it before it could spill.

“Thank you,” Azira inclined his head, hair feathers rising up slightly. “Would you like to join Demal and I for dinner? I’m sure you’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

Link nodded, thankful for the offer.

He followed the Rito to another awning, the shade welcoming, even with the sun beginning to set over the mountains.

Demal grinned at him as he sat next to the _voe_. “ _That was quite the performance. Most would have let the King win."_

 _“It’s good to be humbled every now and again. He would’ve thrashed me if we’d done spears or swords.”_ Link might’ve been fast, but size and weight still meant a lot in a fight. Though Link could still hope he’d at least last a _little_ while. “ _Anyways, letting him win would have been_ boring.”

Which earned him an eyeroll.

Link was perhaps a little grateful Cende appeared shortly thereafter, bearing a tray piled high with food. They stared at Link as he picked out a few skewers of meat and vegetables—he wasn’t all that hungry, but he also wasn’t going to refuse food.

 _“Eat,”_ Demal chided the child. “ _Link’ll still be there for you to stare at once you’ve finished.”_

Link huffed, heart tugging some at the look of fond annoyance on Azira’s face. He did his best not to think about missing his mother while he ate, but it was a stalemate at best.

As dusk truly fell, lanterns were lit, colorful light filling the streets.

Ikafu eventually found him again, grabbing his arm and yanking him up unceremoniously. “You won me a lot of rupees today, Link,” she beamed brightly. “Come on, let me get you drunk at least in repayment.”

Once again Link let himself be dragged. “ _Not sure how that’s equal. I’ll just take half the rupees, thanks.”_

“A quarter,” she countered back. “And I’m still getting you drunk because you deserve to be after that.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Link agreed. It wasn’t like much would happen tomorrow anyways, he could deal with the hangover in peace. Which he’d rather take over facing Zelda at the moment. Though he could hope the King wouldn’t let her be _too_ mad at him, considering that he’d agreed to it—so long as the King didn’t also reveal what he’d asked for if he’d won…

Link shook his head, shaking off those thoughts as they reached a small clutch of other Royal Guards. Happily accepting a mug of spiced mead from Anure. It went down far too easily and he found himself soon taking another.

He found himself joining in with their cheering when the _vehvi_ began to run past with their little barrels burning merrily. When it came time for the adults, Link _did_ try to join them, but when he tried to stand, he swayed and almost fell over, much the amusement of the others. He did the smart thing and sat back down, there would always be next year after all.

It was easy to tell it was getting close to midnight because people began dousing the lanterns. Not because the celebrating was over, but to better see the King during his own run.

They were a bit too far here to see him start it, but Link could hear the roar as the rags and tar in the barrel were lit up, and the second roar of the crowd—likely for the King picking it up. He didn’t have to wait long to see it for himself, however. The King running from the bazaar down their street.

Link wasn’t exactly surprised at the swell of emotion he felt watching the King carrying an inferno on his shoulders while the Gerudo around him cheered and tried to touch the flames—it was supposedly good luck. It _was_ an awe-inspiring sight. 

After the King passed, the celebrating _did_ begin to break up some. He himself left his fellow guards, meandering back to the bazaar, watching the people mill about.

He spotted Zelda easily, but didn’t approach her. He wasn’t close enough to protect her, should something happen, but considering what the King had done today, Link wouldn’t be surprised if anyone who _did_ try something would get torn to pieces for the trouble. So he tried not to feel _too_ much guilt over the fact that he was technically avoiding her.

The roaring returned as the King did, dropping the barrel off his shoulders and into the middle of the bazaar, what little wood remained shattering at the impact. Shrugging off the padding and shaking out his hair, the King marched to Zelda, who said something to him.

In response the King scooped her up—Link could hear her surprise from here—and began carrying her off.

Link found himself following, frowning a little when they went to the stables instead of the palace. They emerged a few minutes later on the back of the King’s black, the King nudging the horse into a walk.

At which point the King must have also laid some sort of ‘don’t see us’ spell, because they, _almost_ , vanished. Link could still follow them however, because well, it was easy to spot such a large empty space even in the thinning crowds of Gerudo. Nevermind his own magic sensing talents.

He followed them all the way to the walls of the town. Lingering at the gate as he watched them weave through the tents. 

In the end he didn’t follow further, retreating instead to the palace and his own bed. It was likely better that way.

-

Carefully Ghan wove his black through the narrow paths between the Gerudo tents. Beyond those, they passed a group of grumbling Hyrulean merchants who clearly didn’t understand why there was a barrier surrounding the city and the tents, preventing them from entering. A few Hytopians had set up a fire, and were passing a bottle between them, two Gorons, and some Holodrumians. A greater number of the merchants who had been politely kicked out for the day were fast asleep.

Zelda didn’t speak until after they were a few minutes past them. “The Colossus? Is that...wholly appropriate?” 

“If I want it to be,” he responded easily. Understanding her concerns somewhat. “Sex _is_ considered a holy act, little thief,” he let himself tease.

Even under the thin moonlight he could make out the tips of her ears darkening from embarrassment. “It’s just...not something I have experience with,” she said.

He reined his horse to a stop, grasping Zelda’s head in his hand and turning it upwards. “Don’t worry, Zelda, no one will be offended. In fact, if people find out they’ll consider it a good sign.”

“Just keep riding…” she muttered, eyes glancing away, refusing to look at him as her embarrassment grew. Still not fully comfortable with the idea of enjoying things not considered ‘normal.’ He was getting her used to it however, he hoped.

Letting her be, he let go of her face and nudged his horse into a gallop, eating up the distance between them and the Colossus with ease. Two braziers flickered into life at their approach, casting the entrance into foreboding darkness.

They left the horse at the oasis, and approached the Colossus on foot. Ghan taking Zelda’s hand as they stepped through the open doorway.

She let out a little gasp as torches burst into light, the mirrors all around filling the room with light. Her eyes darted around, taking in the stairs and various doorways. “Which way’s the right one?”

“It depends on where you want to go,” he answered. Though he was pleased she realized not all the ways offered were true. “But for us…” he lead her to a wall with a mural of Nabooru leading them west after the Quake. He pressed his hand on the brick Nabooru pointed at and part of the wall swung away. “We’re taking a shortcut.”

The secret passage led to a tight spiral staircase going up. He kept hold of her hand as he began the ascent.

“If,” she panted about three quarters of the way up the stairs. “If this goes on for much longer, I fear I won’t be much of an active participant.”

His laughter echoed. “I don’t see that as a problem,” he turned his head enough to give her a quick grin. “Mmm, I think it would be quite enjoyable, you helpless and pliant while I have my filthy way with you.” His cock twitched at the ideas that danced through his head at his own words.

Something similar must have passed through Zelda’s, for she exhaled sharply, her pulse beginning to race under his fingers. “Not...not right now,” she managed to stumble out.

“Alright,” he agreed. Taking it as a small victory that she admitted to wanting it at all. “We’re almost there,” he said. “But if you wish to regain your strength…” He turned and scooped her up again once more. Taking the steps two at a time as he continued upwards.

“If this keeps up, people will begin to think I’m indolent, letting you carry me everywhere.” It hardly sounded like a complaint. She rested her head on his shoulder, humming softly. “Though it _is_ nice, you’re always wonderfully warm, and to feel the play of your muscles is always intriguing.” Her hand glided across his chest.

His ego didn’t need the stroking, but he relished it nonetheless. “I aim to please, my Princess. Though I think perhaps you are a little drunk."

She pushed herself away from his shoulder and glowered at him, seeming not to notice they reached the end of the stairway and onto a spacious balcony overlooking the main chamber. “I am _not_. I barely had any wine, and only two cups of mead, thank you very much. If I am drunk on anything, my King, it is not alcohol, but anticipation.” Her hand moved from his chest downwards, paint flaking off under her fingers, her eyes following her own hand as she watched herself. “I had hoped it might smear,” she spoke almost as if to herself. “Over you, over me…”

Now his cock began to truly swell, her words and touch as arousing as always. “I shall remember for next time, little thief, I think you would look quite fetching smeared in blue here.” He shifted his hold on her so he could cup a breast, thumb flicking over her nipple absently.

She arched like a cat into his touch, eyes growing half-lidded. “Next time,” she agreed. Finally she noticed they were no longer moving and looked around. “Where are we?”

“The King’s balcony,” he answered as he set her down.

She walked to the edge, bending over the stone bannister to take in the whole of the inner sanctum below. “It’s beautiful.”

He felt a different sort of pride at her words.

Not bothering to hide the smile on his face he summoned blankets and pillows to make the stone floor more comfortable. Zelda sidled up next to him as he finished arranging them. “Thank you for making me a bed,” she kissed his shoulder pertly. “But where are you going to sleep?” Her eyes sparkled.

He scooped her up, delighting in her squeal. “Hmmm, I was planning on sleeping atop _you_ , my Princess. Your breasts are far more comfortable than any pillow in the world.” He lifted her up enough that he could nuzzle at them, nipping gently at their curves through the fabric.

She giggled and squirmed delightfully. “I fear you might crush me, oh _mighty_ King.” This time she kissed his cheek.

“Well then,” he heaved a large sigh. “I fear then, it is _my_ bed I have made, and _you_ shall have to sleep atop me. Though I am not sure how good a blanket you make.” He sat with ease, putting her in his lap, letting his hands glide up and down her sides.

“Humph.” She pouted as she reached out and pinched one of his nipples, the sensation sending a low wave of heat through him. “Just like a king, to only think of himself.”

Ghan lay down, dragging her up so she straddled his chest. “I do outrank you, my sweet. But come, let me apologize…” He tugged at the laces of her sirwal.

She let him undo them, shimmying out of the gauzy trousers with ease. Moving again as he cupped her ass and pulled her forward once more. Moaning in delight as her mound settled against his mouth. He shifted his hold on her so he could better spread her legs, tongue darting out eagerly at the first drop of nectar that fell on his lips.

He drank up her sounds as eagerly as he did her nectar and honey, giving her his own sounds of pleasure when she gripped his hair tightly and ground down against him, always so greedy for more. Ghan closed his eyes when she screamed, her overflow drenching his face as she came.

As she came down he lavished attention on her inner thighs, nipping and nuzzling the peach soft skin there.

“Ghan…” she panted, her voice making his cock strain against his own sirwal more than it was already. “I...That was a good, a good start for your apology.”

Little minx. Letting out a playful growl, he dug his fingers into her ass and thighs, holding her down against his mouth. She mewled and tried to writhe, whining when his grip tightened, halting any sort of movement. “Ghan…” She begged.

He made it up to her with another orgasm, this time however he didn’t relent, continuing to kiss and lap at her as she shook. Pressing her on into a third.

His lungs reminded him that he needed more than quick little breaths, and he reluctantly let her go. Only to be rewarded with the sight of her trembling cunt as she fell back against his torso. Once the lightheaded feeling started to go away, he moved again. A hand pushing one of her legs away, forcing her cunt open. He hummed at the beautiful sight, letting his fingers graze against the tender flesh and relishing her little twitches.

“I,” her voice was hoarse and breathless now. “I think you’ve apologized enough.”

“What,” he rumbled. “Made you think this was part of the apology?” He slid a finger into her opening. The sight of her little hole taking it with ease making his own belly clench. “I do believe I promised the day I titled you, was the day you got to take that cock you’ve longed for inside you.” He added a second finger, relishing her moans and the weak rocking of her hips. “You _do_ still want it, yes?” He teased.

Her nails bit into his sides. “Goddesses yes! I will not be denied again, my King. I _will_ take it, whether you want me to or not.”

Another twist in his belly, the desire and determination in those words making him rumble again. “Then, precious thief, let us see if you can steal it for yourself as well.” Even as he spoke he pushed in a third finger, pulling them apart inside her, forcing her walls to stretch. As much as he feared hurting her, some part of him took dark delight at how much her cunt resisted even that.

With a disappointed sigh he pulled his fingers out as she gained the strength to move. As she sat up she removed her choli, the sight of her breasts making his mouth water once more. Even with such tempting fruits, he kept himself prone, only lifting his hips when she began to remove his own sirwal.

“You’ve already prepared it for me, I see.” He tilted his head enough to see her straddling his thighs, bent down enough that the head of his cock was framed between her breasts, and _Goddess_ there were likely few sights as erotic as that.

Zelda dipped her head down, her lips opening wide to take in the head of him, tongue teasing at his slit barely a moment later. He clutched at pillows and blankets as she continued to take him in. Her own moans vibrating through him as she got halfway down. She tilted her eyes so that they met his own, showing him how dark they were with hunger.

She dragged her lips back up before he could start to worry about her own breathing. Laying a teasing kiss to his tip before rising up and shifting her hips forward until her other lips spread around the base of his shaft, forcing it down against him. He groaned as she continued to rock herself upwards, until he could feel the head of him against her, his tip pressing against her clit, drawing sounds from both of them.

He expected her to rock forward again, so that she could draw in the head as easily as she had his fingers. Instead, she moved backwards, her own nectar easing the way.

“Zelda…” He resisted the urge to grab her hips and force her back up.

Her hands pressed against his torso, giving her a better position to glide back and forth. “You are the one always so concerned with _thorough_ preparation, my King.” She bit her lip, muffling a mewl as his head pressed against her again. “I am only following...your example,” she moaned.

“Minx,” he growled. “So your claims of taking it were only that then?” It was half-tease, half-challenge. All the better to distract himself from his own urges to flip them over and shove into her until she was begging for him to stop. Perhaps, perhaps that could be possible at a later date.

She panted in response, head bowed so she could watch it herself.

Until it seemed even she couldn’t take her own teasing anymore, rising up onto her knees and grabbing him with a hand. She tossed her mess of a braid over her shoulder, giving him a much better view as she began to lower herself. As ready as she was, she still had to push down forcefully to get the head of him inside her. She screamed, her cunt squeezing the head of him almost painfully tight as she orgasmed. 

Once she’d recovered, she let go of his shaft, bracing herself on two hands once more. “Fuck!” Her thighs trembled as she took another inch, her body almost too weak to go as slow as she needed to. “Ghan! Oh, Goddesses…” Another inch.

As much as he wanted to help, or at least do it for her. He knew she’d refuse, wanting the satisfaction of having done it all herself. “You can take it,” he rumbled instead. “Goddess, you look magnificent.” Body trembling, eyes dark and glassy with pleasure, the barely visible bulge of him through her skin. Another inch. “Almost halfway,” he moaned, gripping a pillow tight enough to burst. “Zelda, little thief, _please_.”

“So close,” She keened. “So big.”

The next few inches she took in grunts and moans, and all he could do was echo her. Words failing the both of them.

Then, however her legs finally gave out from under her, forcing her to take the last stretch all in one go. She stiffened and let out a strange squeak, her nails digging deep into his skin as her eyes rolled back into her head momentarily. 

Worry started to bloom in the middle of his pleasure, but it faded away when she let out an explosive breath, pushing herself upright despite her trembling arms. “Fuck.”

He wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, not with the heat of her fully sheathing his cock, clinging so tightly he feared she might make him burst. Finally though he let himself touch her, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. His own head thrown back as he struggled not to spill immediately. Though he doubted Zelda would truly mind, his own pride wouldn’t let him.

Neither of them moved for an eternity. Not until Zelda finally seemed to collect herself somewhat, enough at least to move her hips back and forth. The movement almost maddening.

“Zelda…”

“Don’t, want you to leave,” she panted. “Might, might be too much work to get you back in.”

 _Now_ he laughed, the sound morphing into a shout as his body gave up the fight and he began to spill inside her. His hands tightening even more, forcing her to remain still once more as he filled her to the brim.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Oh, Goddesses, Ghan, it feels so _good_.” She clenched around him, as if trying to draw more seed out from his shaft. “Don’t _ever_ make me wait again.” Her attempt at a glower was lackluster at best, thanks to her pleasure-slack expression.

“But, Zelda, my dear.” He slid his hands up her back, guiding her down to lay on his chest. “I think watching you squirm so desperately as you beg, _such_ a delight.” He bent his head to kiss the top of her head fondly. “At least let me make you wait every once in a while.”

She gave one of those delightful squirms, and he felt himself almost slip out of her, only for her hips to shift again, drawing him back in. “I...I could be convinced,” she murmured. “But not right now, my King.” A kittenish yawn escaped her. “Right now, I fear I must rest.” She buried her face deeper into his chest, seeming to think his made an equally good pillow for her.

“Sleep.” He continued to glide his fingers up and down her spine, smiling as he felt her relax into sleep.

He found himself feeling equally relaxed, though he had no desire for sleep. He stopped his petting, letting one of his hands settle on her ass while the other brushed her cheek gently before pulling a blanket around them. “Thank you, Zelda,” he whispered. 

She might not have been able to admit she was in love with him, but he could wait for it. Perhaps their trip to Holodrum would help. It would be a new experience for the both of them, and someplace they could make something for _them_ without the weight of their peoples histories behind them. 

Some new jewelry for her too, Ghan debated absently. “Sapphires,” he said quietly. Ones the color of her eyes. But the setting? Autumn gold perhaps, if the right mix could be made, or maybe copper…

His hand brushed against her own, the Triforce mark on his hand appearing as he touched her own, with a clench of his fist it vanished again. "After Holodrum," he found himself promising. "I'll tell you everything then." 

-

Despite her knowing it was a mirror, she would not have guessed it by looking at it alone. The dark stone offering no reflection, of light or of her fellows moving around it to cut the chains that encircled it.

Anticipation filled the room as the last chain fell away, revealing the unrelenting darkness in full.

“What, what do we do now, my lady?”

She pulled a knife from her sirwal. “Now, we begin the ritual.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song the Gerudo sing during the History is based off/inspired by the Coventry Carol (specifically [the version sung by Annie Lennox](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRZTP9MlPOs))
> 
> Flying pace is a gait natural to Icelandic horses, which have five instead of three gaits [you can watch a video of if here](https://youtu.be/RV9P0w8vZi8?t=107) (and if you go back to 1:19 you can see the tölt, the other natural gait)
> 
> [if you wanted to see some real barrel running...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtOYyPj1li0)
> 
> See you all next week for the end of part 1!


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